


Six Inch

by TheSmutFaries



Series: Smut Anthology [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmutFaries/pseuds/TheSmutFaries
Summary: Six inch heels, she walked in the club like nobody's business. Goddamn, she murdered everybody and I was her witness...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basic jest of the conversation that started this fic:
> 
> SF2: *shares https://sleepymr.tumblr.com/post/164349488054/shollowsource-ichabod-in-bw with SF1* It looks like he's in a strip club watching a stripper dance.
> 
> SF1: ... What if the stripper was Abbie?
> 
> SF2: We should write that.

_Abbie stayed slouched in her seat as she listened to Sheriff Corbin make an offer. She chewed her nail absent-mindedly until he arched a brow._

_“What do you say, kid,” he asked._

_Tears stung her eyes. Why was he even making this offer? What did she even do to deserve a chance to start again? She had left her sister to essentially fend for herself when…_

_Abbie swallowed hard and sat up straight. She studied her hands._ Jenny is crazy. It was all just their imagination _she told herself. “I can take care of myself,” she mumbled. She didn't need or want anyone to feel sorry for her._

_Sheriff Corbin frowned. “There's no shame in getting help to stand on your own feet, Abbie,” he said gently._

_“I'll be fine,” she said briskly._

_“How about this,” he said. “Promise me this is the last time I get a call about you getting into trouble or letting a boyfriend get you in trouble. I won't book you. You can go home and turn your life around on your own.”_

_Sucking in a breath, Abbie studied the old man's face. When they parted ways a few minutes later, she made a point to call the boyfriend that left her to take the fall. It was over. She needed to get a real job and try to keep Jenny out of trouble._

_Months then years passed. She had jobs, she lost jobs. Occasionally, while waitressing tables at whatever eatery would hire her, she would run into Sheriff Corbin._

_“My offer still stands,” he would say once the other officers were gone or he would write it on his business card. Once he had left it jotted on the edges of one of the dollar bills he left as a tip._

_Sometimes she would stare at the card or sit in bed fancying the idea of herself as a police officer. A detective. An FBI agent… but she would always convince herself not to call._

_Eventually it was Jenny that was the police officer sitting with him at the diners. Then one day someone left a card for her, advertising a new club in town. She talked to the customer._

_“I can bank $300 on a bad night,” the girl said. “$900 for three days of work. Hard to beat.” The girl eyed Abbie greedily. “Pretty girl like you could probably make a lot more. My name is Monica, by the way.”_

_It took a couple drinks the first month, to get her nerves on board. She never tried anything stronger like the other girls. Why? Because she had promised not to get in trouble again._

_Plus her sister was a cop. How she had managed that with her record was a mystery. But evidently Sheriff Corbin knew how to make stuff disappear._

_Six months turned into a year. She danced, she would grind, lap dances were the worst. But the big beefcake at the door made sure no touch meant no touch._

_Sure the money was good but… if Jenny could do the cop thing, she was pretty sure she could too. Then one day she found Sheriff Corbin’s card on her dresser at home while cleaning it up._

_That same night Jenny called her, sobbing, saying Sheriff Corbin had died in the line of duty. Abbie could only swear under her breath._

_Well, there went her chance to make something of herself._

~*~

Abbie squeaked when one of the other girls snapped her thong and scurried off giggling. “Monica, what the hell?” Abbie laughed.

The other girl blew her a kiss. “That booty is hard to resist, Pixie. I can't help it.”

“A girl can't even strap on her shoes in this place in peace,” Abbie teased, straightening her thong. “Guys groping me, Monica being Monica, and Steve.”

The bouncer cocked a brow but said nothing. Steve was a man of few words. In fact the only thing she had ever heard him utter was a toughman grunt, just before dislocating a man's shoulder for slapping her ass. He was huge and muscular. Perfect for tossing people out of the club. Though Abbie swore she had seen him at the community theatre putting a program together with Jenny more than once.

“Hey Tiny,” she called. “How's the wife and kids?” Steve smiled shyly and shook his head. 

“Pixieee,” Monica chimed. “Everyone knows Steve is gay. Ain't that right, sweetie?”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Well no one told me so how was I to know?” Abbie scoffed. “Sorry, Steve. How's the husband and kids?” Another sigh and roll of the eyes. “Boyfriend and dog? Jesus Christ say something, Steve.”

His eyes twinkled with laughter when he grinned. 

An older blonde woman walked into the dressing room. “Pixie, the gent just came in and asked if you were working tonight,” Mabie groused. “Tabitha’s already got him a drink. He’s a couple tables away from the left, front.”

There was a chorus of “ooooh”s from the other girls. Abbie scoffed and shook her head.

The Gent was a man that came in a couple nights a week. He would sit at a table away from the stage, sipping on fruity cocktails, and listening to the music. He tipped the waitress and the bartender. Never asked for lap dances or private dances. Never sat near the stage and tucked ones into anyone's thongs. Never made any of the girls work for a tip--but each girl would have a crisp ten in an envelope bearing her name at the end of the night.

Except Abbie.

Oh she had a ten. She had several in fact. Sometimes it would be a ten and a couple of hundreds.

Abbie had studied his habits. He would sip his drink while one of the other girls was near where he was seated. But as soon she got into his sphere of view, he sat straight in his seat and didn't touch his drink. 

Sadie--the bartender--had commented that, while looking at Abbie, it felt like he had an internal montage rolling in his brain set to ‘I'm in love with a stripper.’

He was cordial and polite to any of the girls that approached him to offer a dance. He would blush and duck his head as he declined with a shy smile. All the girls thought he was adorable and would sometimes sit and talk with him, try to charm him. 

None had been successful.

Abbie thought he was a little... weird. He was neatly groomed, hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He often wore some kind of reenactment costume. Tonight it was tidy black breeches and coat. She wondered if there had been a special event that required him to be extra polished that day.

“See if you can get him to get a couple of lap dances tonight,” Mabie suggested, peering at Abbie. She then made her normal offer for when he showed up. “$100 bonus to the girl or girls that can achieve it. But, as always, keep it legal. I've seen him at the diner with the police officers, I think he might be a detective or something.”

Abbie felt her heart lodge in her throat. Did Jenny send him to spy on her? She had been careful to keep her place of employ vague when she talked about work. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she was doing. It was just, since becoming a cop, Jenny had a tendency to scrutinize everything Abbie did. Mostly her dating choices.

_He has a record, Abbie. This one sold drugs. That one has a domestic violence record spanning back to his teens. This one has sexual assault on his record. Just last week that one got busted stealing a car._

_“Isn't it illegal for you to divulge that information, Jenny?”_

_“You can hear this from anyone if you bother asking,” Jenny griped._

“Pixie, you and Monica need to get out there,” Mabie barked.

Abbie swallowed hard. She took a deep breath. She had a job to do. If he was still around when it was time for her break, she'd find out the answer to her queries from the man himself.

~*~

Contrary to Abbie's suspicions, Jenny had not sent Ichabod Crane to spy on her sister. In fact, Jenny was currently standing in the Archives, wondering just where the Hell fucking Ichabod fucking Crane fucking was.

She looked at her watch. Then she looked at her phone clock. _No new messages_. She tapped her foot. She drummed the table. She huffed and puffed in a manner that would make the Big Bad Wolf envious. She checked her watch again and started the cycle anew.

After three rounds, she dialed Ichabod’s number again. It went straight to voicemail. She growled as his voice apologized profusely for not being available but to please leave a voice missive--whatever that means--and he would respond post haste. Sincerely yours, Captain Ichabod Crane.

“Crane,” she snapped. “Where the Hell are you? I'm at the Archives, like I said I would be in the last three _missives_. Plus, we have to talk about this $200 water bill for the cabin that you _still haven't paid_. You have a job so there's no excuse. If I end up having to pay it because you blew your money, I'm going to plant my foot in your--”

 _Beeeep. To leave a callback number dial it now and press pound when complete_.

She groaned and hit end.

~*~

The marvelously sweet taste of mango and pineapple are chased with a sharp pang of alcohol, the sting more like a gnat than anything close to what it would take to inebriate Ichabod if he were really going for drunk.

No, he needed the entirety of his faculties whilst in this establishment. He could never be sure when _she_ would step onto the floor. 

Just at the thought of her, Ichabod feels his heart race and his grasp on the tall glass in his hands tightens. Will this thrill ever wear off?

“ _Alright, put your hands together for Sasha! Come on out, Sasha_!”

He’s half-disappointed, half-relieved _she’s_ not performing yet. Ichabod thinks he needs another drink to drown out his brain before he can detach himself and just _watch_ unselfconsciously. 

Ichabod takes another long sip of his drink through the whirls and bends of his straw and turns on the swivelling bar stool almost absently as he contemplates the universe.

“Hey, baby; you looking for me?”

Ichabod turns fully to find himself faced with _her_ in all her glory.

Immediately he chokes as he swallows liquid down the wrong pipe, and proceeds to half stand and have his drink slip from his hands. Her beautiful lips form a perfect smile as her dark eyes flutter innocently.

He tries to speak but all that comes out is small incoherent noises. Ichabod clears his throat and glances down at the mess on the floor. “Forgive me,” he mutters and kneels down pick up the chunks of glass.

After a moment, warm fingers tilt his chin up. “Stop. Before you hurt yourself.” She smiles softly before giving a soft whistle and beckoning the waitress over. “Tabitha, I startled this handsome gentleman and he dropped his drink. Can we get Charlie over here to clean it up and bring him a replacement?”

“Sure thing,” Tabitha beamed and bound off.

Ichabod was spellbound as she lead him to the other side of the table and indicated that he should sit. He blinked down at her as she stepped between his knees and rested her hands on his thighs.

He didn't even know where to begin… His eyes drifted to the luscious mounds of flesh barely contained by a tiny _bikini_ top, dusted with a shimmery substance that twinkled each time she moved.

He quickly returned to her face because her breasts were definitely not the place to start.

“I'm sorry I startled you,” she said, her voice low and sensual. “They call me Pixie, what's your name, Handsome?”

“ _Ich liebe dich_ ,” Ichabod blurted. He closed his eyes and sighed when she laughed like a beautiful melody. That _was not_ what he meant to say. Well, at least he had the _Ich_ part right. “Pardon me…” he groaned. He bowed politely. “Ichabod Crane, at your services, madam.”

He sucked in a breath and prayed she didn't know any German. Good Lord, she was even more beautiful up close. A variable shimmering and sparkling goddess. Much shorter than he had thought, even wearing high heels she barely reached his shoulders.

She was the elder sister of his partner at the police department. His intended fellow witness to the Apocalypse. Grace Abigail Mills. Officer Mills was acting as her temporary replacement until Abigail was ready to face the demons which were trying to take over. He and Abigail alone had the ability to save the world from ending.

It was why he had started seeking her out. He had asked around at every establishment in Sleepy Hollow, as his only clues were that she was Miss Jenny's sister and that she worked a job which she worked for _tips_. His queries had led him to this place. _Sweet Cheeks Gentlemen's Lounge_. A den of sin, lust, and absolutely delightful drinks.

In his day, Benjamin Franklin would sometimes unwillingly drag him to similar places or, more than once, had turned his home into such. He had been just as uncomfortable then as he had at first been in the present. 

The drinks had helped. Though he found the logo quite questionable as the ‘w’ looked like the outline of a woman’s posterior, the sign clearly stated the club was intended for _gentlemen_.

The true reason he found himself so oft in the club was the petite woman before him. He had found Grace Abigail and been… transfixed. She was a beautiful dancer. Elegant and strong. Her body gyrated and flowed like a winding stream through a meadow.

_“Excuse me,” he had asked the bartender, months ago. “Is a Miss Grace Abigail Mills in today?” The same question he had asked all the other establishments. The first two places he had ever looked for her he had made the mistake of asking if she worked there but he quickly learned they could not divulge that information._

_The woman behind the bar nodded toward the stage. “She's busy at the moment,” the woman said. “Have a seat. Her break starts after she's done.”_

_He had looked and from that moment forth, he had been enamoured by the beautiful angel on stage. A literal angel. It had been Halloween and she had taken an angel theme for her costuming._

_He had watched her strip away the wings and halo with slack jawed awe. He had needed to sit down as she stripped off the little, sheer gown. She had danced and twirled on the pole, an expression of bliss on her face. Guests had tucked money into any place they could when she came near._

_She had laughed and grinned as she peeled off the little white brassiere, rendering herself topless. He'd had to hurry out at that because it was suddenly far too much. He still couldn't look at angel statues without getting aroused._

“Well, Ichabod Crane,” Abbie purred. “We're having a two for one on dances tonight. Think I can tempt you into it?”

Ichabod could feel every drop of blood in his body rush to the same place as he imagined her dancing for him, as he had seen her do for other patrons. He swallowed hard and picked his hat up off the table to hold it over his lap “I am afraid I must politely decline Miss _Pixie_.”

Her gaze dropped to his lap then came back up to his eyes. “Why come to a place like this and tip all the girls if you have no intention to let them do their job?” Abbie asked softly.

Before he could respond, Abbie plucked his hat from his hands and placed it back on the table, then slipped onto his lap and crossed her knees over his thighs. One of her hands slipped behind his neck and he shivered. Her other hand trailed down the front of his shirt. “If you're scared of someone watching… we can go to one of the private rooms.”

The hand at his chest roamed upward to stroke his beard. Her eyes lingered on his mouth and she licked her lips. She shifted on his lap to get comfortable. Ichabod swallowed again, his mouth suddenly very dry.

_Surely she could feel what was taking place just below her backside…_

Good Lord. He could smell her sweet perfume. She weighed practically nothing on his lap. He could see, up close, her dark eyes and full lips. She had small gems at the corner of each winged tip of her eyeliner. His fingers itched to touch the shimmering dust on her breasts and cheekbones.

Thankfully Miss Tabitha returned with his drink. Abbie smiled brightly and took the drink. “Thanks Tabitha.” As soon as Tabitha walked away, Abbie curled her tongue around the straw and pulled it into her mouth. She took a deep drink then offered him the straw. “It's delicious… have a drink.”

Ichabod swallowed audibly. “I know the drink is all the sweeter for having your lips touch my straw,” he said softly.

Abbie felt herself flush. “You have a way with words, don’t you, handsome?” she purred, to cover the effect his words had on her.

“The truth would still pale against the reality of your beauty,” Ichabod said, the earnestness turning the tips of his ears red.

Abbie shook her head. “You are just adorable,” she said, and when he opened his mouth to object she slipped the straw between his lips and smiled when he swallowed reflexively. “There,” she said. “Let’s get you loosened up.”

Ichabod groaned low in his throat as Abbie shifted in his lap, dragging her backside against his rapidly hardening member. It was exquisite torture that needed to end and should never stop. His grasp on the arms of his chair was the only thing that kept him sane and from doing something embarrassing like thrusting up against the goddess on his lap.

Thankfully he is saved by a persistently modern buzzing in his pocket. “I can’t,” he said, forcing the words beyond his teeth almost painfully. “I beg your pardon, Miss Pixie, I am needed elsewhere,” he stammered.

Abbie stared at him for a moment before she uncrossed her legs and rose gracefully before him. “It’s been a pleasure to actually talk to you,” she said honestly. “And it isn’t because of the tips,” she adds, before he gets the wrong idea. “But they help,” she says when he flushes and ducks his head.

Ichabod rose, rising higher and higher until he towered over her. He dropped into a surprisingly graceful bow, unfurling his coat and everything. Dimly Abbie could hear Tabitha gasp and the titters of a few of the other girls behind him. When he rose there was something in his eyes, something that hinted at a very different beast beneath the shyness.

“Until next time,” he said as he returned his hat to his head.

Abbie could only nod eagerly as he turned smartly on his heel and left through the entrance, giving a nod to Steve on his way out.

“That might have been as close to Pretty Woman as any of our ashy asses are gonna get,” Monica mumbled behind her.

“Shut up, Monica,” Abbie said absently, her mind floating out after her Gent, Ichabod Crane.

~*~

“I did come as soon as I received your missives,” Ichabod said quietly, his eyes on the pages of the old book in front of him. 

Jenny still wasn't buying the ‘spotty cell service’ excuse. But he was getting ready to go into shutdown mode any second. So, she sucked it up and sighed. “Alright. So have you found anything else that your wife lied to you about?”

Jabs about his lying, manipulative wife normally earned her a glare. But this time Ichabod simply sighed and flipped a page in his book. “I cannot control the time and places which she may try to contact me. I think perhaps it may prove best to admit that I may never nor should ever retrieve her from Purgatory and--what is it you favor saying--get on with my life… dwell not in the past.”

Jenny blinked at the somber man in front of her. He still wasn't looking up at her. Maybe she was being too hard on him. He had just found out his wife had been lying to him non-stop for the duration of their marriage. He'd had a son he hadn’t known about. Said son was an evil little shit.

She pulled up a chair and sat down. “Are you sure? I mean… that's great news. But… if that's what you want to do. Not because it's what I keep saying you need to do.” She tilted her head. “Did your wife contact you and say something or…” She suddenly remembered smelling a flowery scent wafting from him when he arrived. “Ichabod. Are… are you seeing someone? A modern someone?”

He finally looked at her with a withering glare. “No,” he said flatly, then looked away. “Not in the strictest definition anyway. I simply wish to keep my options open in the event there is a young woman whom I wish to court.”

For a moment she swore his mind was a mile away. Maybe it was. Corbin had always said it was a possibility Ichabod Crane would revive. It was even more likely he would feel inexplicably drawn to Abbie without realizing that's what was happening. Was he feeling drawn to his fellow witness? Was Abbie's absence in his life causing him legit anguish?

Urgh. Why couldn't Abbie have just become a cop and do the witness thing like she's supposed to? That would have made everything easier. Of course Jenny probably would be in Tarrytown right now.

She just had to hope Corbin was right and that Abbie would come around on her own before it was too late. There was no need to introduce them as an experiment in seeing if it would help snap him out of his funk.

Then again women did tend to throw themselves at him. Maybe one of the thirsty historical society biddies laid it on heavy then started pawing at him. Maybe that's what had him in a funk. She'd be in a funk too if the only people that wanted anything to do with her were 40-something year old white women that fawned over her hands and hair. 

Jenny sighed. So giving Crane Hell about not answering his phone and his wife were off her list. She reached into her coat pocket and slapped a piece of paper down in front of him. “So tell me. How the Hell do you run up that much of a water bill in a month?”

After all, she had to give him Hell about something.

~*~

With her feet still firmly on the stage, Abbie did a few simple twirls on the pole. After that she leaned against the pole and rocked her hips in a sensuous motion as she worked her way to her knees. After crawling around to collect tips from the fellas--and one lovely lady--she crawled back to the pole and worked her way back to her feet. 

She took a few steps back, then leapt at the pole. She earned hoots and whistles as she swung herself around the pole and made her way to the top with practiced ease. Her eyes fluttered closed and for a moment it felt like she was on cloud nine as the spinning pole let her whirl back down to the the safety of having her feet on the stage.

This was her favorite part of her job. The exhilaration. She felt unstoppable while suspended above everyone with just a sturdy bit of metal and her thigh muscles keeping her from crashing to the floor. 

On her way down, her eyes fluttered open. Her heart leapt when she saw _his face_ in the beam of red light that swiped past him. It was then that there was a smile on her face for a wholly different reason.

She hadn't scared him off after all. He had come back. 

As the end of the song neared she made a sweep of the stage side, getting her ones, fives, and twenties. God she loved drunk people sometimes. When she neared the end some little “my dad owns a yacht” shit waggled a wrinkled and dirty one at her.

“How about you work for it,” he said with a salacious grin, pulling the one back when she reached for it.

Abbie knelt down in front of him, smiled sweetly, and said, “I just worked more in three minutes than you or your daddy have your entire lives. I don't need your damn filthy ass dollar.”

She stood and made her way off stage to cheers from her patrons. “Hot damn,” Monica preened, as Abbie entered the dressing room. “I need to a take a pic of all that cash before you take it off.”

“No Monica,” Abbie laughed. “This ass is not getting turned into a Tumblr meme.”

“Reblog the Money Pixie to make good tips,” Monica giggled.

Abbie rolled her eyes and started plucking money from her boot straps and thong. She compiled it with the cash that had fallen out of her top when she removed it. “The Gent came back,” she said pointedly. 

Monica gasped and sat up straight. “God. I'm so jealous,” she groaned. “I wish I had a quirky, obviously loaded, guy to rescue me.” She feigned a faint and sighed. “I bet he has a small dick. That probably why he doesn't get dances. He wants to make sure we love him for his money first.”

Abbie grinned and shook her head. “That's not it,” Abbie chuckled. “I was on his lap earlier and trust me… _that_ is not it.”

“You lucky hoe,” Monica whispered. “Just for that… Money Pixie is gonna make her rounds.”

“Just make sure my face ain't showing this time,” Abbie said.

“Don't worry, I will,” Monica replied. “They'll be too distracted by your titties to notice your face ain't showing.” She showed Abbie a pic of her sitting down, picking money off her boot straps, cleavage in full force. Sure enough she was looking down so her face wasn't showing.

“I like it,” Abbie said with a nod. She shoved all of her tips into her money bag and locked it in her locker. “Let me see if I can catch our Gent before he leaves again.”

“Get ‘im, Pixie. Get ‘im.”

The club was starting to wind down for the night. Patrons were starting to dwindle out of the door. But Abbie had only one table in mind. She made her way to a table near the back of the seating, close to the bar and exit door.

“Hey Pixie,” Sadie called. When Abbie looked her way, she held out an envelope. “Here's yours.”

Her heart fell as she took the envelope that had her name on it in Ichabod’s tidy scrawl. However, she couldn’t help but smile at the little hearts over the “i”s in her stage name. Though she normally waited until she got home to count the money in the envelope, something told her to open it and look inside just this once. 

She flipped the envelope open and tucked into the back, behind four fifties and a few twenties was a scrap of paper. A smile curved Abbie’s lips after she read the note and she tucked the envelope closed. “Thanks, Sadie.” 

Abbie turned and bound back to the dressing room, light as a cloud. Once the final dancer-Monica-was done, all the girls gathered their belongings and started trading horror stories for the night. Sasha had dealt with the same yacht boy Abbie had in a private room and Steve had ended up throwing him out. “Candy” had the misfortune of having one guy puke on her while she was making rounds on the floor, slipped, and was now sporting an angry bruise on her ass. Monica had sprained her wrist doing something in the private rooms that she shouldn’t have been doing. A couple of the other girls were just tired as hell and ready to go home.

Once everyone had their belongings, Steve escorted them all out the back entrance. Abbie grinned brightly when she saw her Gent standing close to a street lamp, so that he was clearly visible. Her face warmed when the other girls giggled and “ooooh”ed as she walked over to him. He held himself straighter until she made it to him, at which point he took her hand and bowed elegantly over it.

Abbie felt her heart flutter when he stood and smiled shyly. “I trust your night was productive?” he asked softly.

“It was, thank you for asking,” she replied, unable to keep a smile off her face. “So what’s this about being…” she tried to recollect what the little note had said “...permitted the privilege of assuring my safe arrival to my vehicle?”

He blushed enough that she could see it in the dim light of the parking lot. “Ordinarily I would make certain you made it safely to your home, but I do not know where you live. Therefore I will take what precious privilege I am allowed and offered to see you safely to your automobile. If it is amicable to my lady?”

God. What Jane Austen novel had this guy fell out of? He said fifty words when three would suffice. _My Lady_? She was in six inch heels, booty shorts, and a bikini top. She had glitter in orifices no good person should have glitter. But he was looking at her like she was prettiest, proper lady to walk the planet.

“It’s amicable,” Abbie said softly. She glared at the other girls when she heard a chorus of cute “awww”s. They were all huddled close, watching her and Ichabod. They looked like a dysfunctional version of the Spice Girls. Ichabod tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, she stuck her tongue out at her fellow dancers.

Abbie suddenly felt giddy and walked along side Ichabod after she pointed out which one was her car. She was already wondering if he was going to be a gentleman in between the sheets too. Or was that where he let his freak flag fly? 

When they reached her car, Abbie slipped her hand from his arm and faced him, looking up at him. “Thank you, Ichabod Crane,” she said softly, slipping her key into the door. Once unlocked, he opened the door and took her hand to assist her into her car. 

“No, thank you, Miss Pixie,” Ichabod said, his voice a low rumble. He gave her hand a kiss and then released it so he could close the door. 

Abbie blinked and felt confused. He had honestly intended to _only_ walk her to her car? She rolled down the window. “Ichabod…” He knelt down, unfurling his coat behind him. She smiled and felt her face warm. “If you want you can follow me to my apartment and make sure I make it safe.”

His eyes darkened and she felt a pang between her legs. “Whilst I would love to, I do not think it is wise to do so at this juxtaposition.” 

God, his voice was pure sin. Abbie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She picked up one of the Sweet Cheeks business cards that littered her car and jotted her name-not her stage name-along with her number. She sketched a couple of hearts for extra effect and handed it to him. “In case you change your mind.”

He looked at what she had jotted down then gave her a look at that was definitely going to be fueling really dirty dreams that night. Unfortunately she also had a feeling he wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“I’m working 10-2 tomorrow night,” Abbie provided.

“I look forward to seeing you then Miss Abbie,” he said softly and stood. 

Abbie let up her window, sighed, then with one last wave to him, she drove home.

~*~

Ichabod groaned with irritation as he tossed and turned in bed. He was tired, yes. After walking Abigail to her car, it had been nearly half an hour before he had made it back to the cabin. Once at the cabin, he’d made a point to shower, just in case Officer Mills decided to make an impromptu visit in the morning. He didn’t want to smell of the gentleman’s club and Abigail and be forced to answer her questions.

Her militant nature often had him quite terrified of her wrath. He much preferred the delicate softness of the elder Mills sister. 

His eyes rolled back in his head as the thought of Abigail and _softness_ caused the stirring in his loins to intensify. He grabbed the other pillow on the bed and put it over his face. Ichabod had already had a strongly worded confrontation with his annoyingly insistent arousal in the shower. He would have tried strangling it but that would have been giving it what it wanted.

The fact his eidetic memory was also part of the rebellion made it even worse. It was reminding him of Abigail’s flowery scent, the way she stroked his beard, her weight on his lap, and-good Lord-her full, glossy lips, her tongue darting out to wet them, the curve of her neck when her head was thrown back and the way her lips parted when in the throes of bliss as she danced. And in no time his mind had compiled a theory of what it would be like to have her astride him, his face in her small hands, as she bounced on his lap, taking him inside of her, her walls squeezing his co--

“Oh no you do not,” Ichabod groused, removing the pillow from his face. He pulled his lecherous hand out from under the bed coverings, beginning to question the wisdom of slumbering naked. Was his entire body trying to revolt against him?

He buried the offending hand underneath the pillow, under his head. The other rested upon his chest. Ichabod breathed in slowly and steadily until he felt the rushing of his blood slow. His fingers flexed and drummed on his chest then began to creep lower. His hand had reached his stomach when he recognized its path and quickly put a stop to that by grabbing the pillow, rolling onto his stomach, and tucking said pillow between his legs so that he could at least have some relief from the heaviness gathered there.

Both hands were now buried under the pillow under his head. He idly wondered if Officer Mills might have left a set of handcuffs at the cabin so that he may restrain himself properly. Then he realized that may actually make more questions arise that he didn’t want to answer.

He adjusted all his pillows until _everything_ was comfortable. The way he had adjusted them quickly began to lull him toward sleep. If he didn’t think too hard, it almost felt like he was laying in the embrace of a lover. He hummed softly as his hips shifted and slowly ground against the pillow.

Ichabod sighed and buried his face in the pillow beneath it. In his current position, it was easy to pretend… easy to pretend he did indeed have a lover a bed with him. He was by no means imagining his face was buried between warm, soft, brown breasts. The soft sighs he was imagining were not coming from luscious lips that had been glossed soft pink. He was not rocking his hips between strong, legs with high heels and black ribbons crisscrossing to the knees.

He ground down, imagining how blissful it would be to sink into her soft, wet heat, hearing her cry his name breathlessly, but louder and louder as he began to pound into her. How exquisite she must feel around his cock, gentle gasps of pleasure as his stroke made her breasts bounce before him.

 _Give me more_ , she’d say, and he’d spread her legs even further and thrust long and slow, determined to put a fine tremble in her limbs as he used his manhood to worship her body.

It wasn’t long before Ichabod was grateful for the fact he hadn’t a neighbor for miles and that there was only the surrounding forest to hear his loud cries as he found relief from the ache in his groin. He panted heavily for several minutes then he laughed bitterly before sitting up to toss the pillow he had violated into the basket next to his bed. 

He scoffed and got up to get another shower.


	2. Chapter 2

The were arguing.  

Like always.  

He had neglected to stay and bring Irving up to date on what was going on with Evil-Little-Shit Son, relegating it as Jenny’s duty.  She had called and left him a foul message saying she needed to have words with him at the Archives.  He had shown up an hour later, freshly showered, changed, smelling of cologne, and annoyed as fuck.

Like he had a hot date and saving the world was getting in the way.

Jenny wasn’t entirely sure how it had escalated, just that at one point he shouted that she wasn’t good enough to fight the forces of evil.  “Well, where the hell did you disappear to last night?” Jenny demanded.  “I went by the cabin, you wasn’t there.  In fact, all I found was your basket of spank bank towels next to the washer.”

His face turned red and he sputtered.  “Perhaps you should not have been nosy and been plundering through the cabin,” he huffed indignantly.  “That hardly has a thing to do with the fact _you_ are not the true witness.  If keeping Captain Irving informed is ‘too much’ then I dread the day things shall get harder and be wholly beyond your ability to _deal_.”

Jenny scoffed.  How dare he! Sure that was a legitimate concern, but he didn't have to bring it up every time they butted heads. Something between Crane’s polished appearance and the laundry basket at the cabin clicked.  “Oh Jesus Christ.  Why didn’t I think of that... No wonder you’re such a moody sack of shit.  You need to laid.  Like, _now_.”

Crane gawked for several moments, his face growing even more red.  “ _That is neither your business nor something you should concern yourself with, I thank you, Sergeant Mills_!”

Before she could say it was, in fact her business because he's been being progressively more of an insufferable dick with each passing day, he had flailed dramatically and stormed out of the Archives.

Jenny rubbed her temples and sighed.  Dammit. Why did he have to be right? Maybe it was time to sit Abbie down and tell her everything.  Things were only going to get worse.  And she could only imagine how bad things could go considering her and Ichabod _did not_ work well together.

She liked him better when the toaster gave him anxiety.  She liked snark-lite as opposed to Sass Master Flash.  Though, with a small smirk, if he had been this much of a dick in his time, no wonder none of his founding father buddies didn't want anything to do with him.

~*~

Ichabod sat straight in his seat as he watched Abbie collect a few fallen bills off the stage.  He enthusiastically applauded her performance with the other patrons.  His eyes narrowed, as Abbie stepped down off of the stage, one gentleman grabbed her backside.  But then she wrenched his wrist behind his back and pressed his face into his table.

The gentleman was one of the “regulars” and apparently liked getting roughed up by the girls.  According to Abbie, the girls all had a mutual enjoyment of roughing him up so he was permitted to remain a patron.  
Ichabod had witnessed Sgt Mills do the same thing to cohorts of Moloch.  When Sgt Mills did it, it was bordering worrisome, because they often still needed information from the person.  When Abbie did it, and he watched her gently toned arms flexed and clench as the patron struggled against her hold, he somewhat wished she would do it to him.  He warranted she would have made a most excellent police officer.

His last few visits to _Sweet Cheeks_ had been considerably more delightful.  During her breaks, Abbie would join him at his table.  Sometimes she would sit upon his lap and stroke her fingers through his hair or a small spot just below his ear that made him shiver.  Other times he would fold his coat and put it on the cushion of a second chair, for her to sit upon.  They would lean close to each other, and he would hold her small hands in his monstrous ones as they talked.

When he was with Abigail, he felt... something. A wholeness he had never felt before.  In the entirety of his existence.  He had heard the recorded words of the late Sheriff.  But to say he was “inexplicably drawn” to Abbie was a poor analogy indeed.  It felt like the very fabric of his pitiful existence strove to interweave itself with the radiant perfection of her tapestry.

When Miss Tabitha came near he asked for a _Sex on the beach_ for himself and a _Royal Blue Martini_ for Abbie and his actions were rewarded just a few minutes later when he felt nimble fingers tickle the back of his neck.

“Hey there, Handsome,” Abbie purred.  She fell into his lap and ran her fingers through his hair.  “Want some company?”

She had donned a few bits of shimmery silver material that called itself a dress. It showed much more of her luminous brown skin than it covered.  The skirt didn't even cover her entire backside.  The plunging neckline draped deeply between her breasts, nearly to the skirt.  The back was nonexistent.

Ichabod placed a hand at the small of her back and graciously thanked Tabitha when she returned with the drinks.  “I would adore your company,” Ichabod murmured close to her ear and she shivered.  He handed Abbie her drink.

“For me?” she preened.  “How did you remember this is what I like between sets?”

“I have an eidetic memory,” he said softly.  “But even if I did not, I wouldn't fathom forgetting anything which gives you pleasure.”

Abbie took a sip of her drink.  “It would give me pleasure to take you to one of the private rooms and give you a private show.  Maybe more.”

She watched him swallow hard.  “I would be most honoured to have one, Abigail,” he murmured softly.  “If it would please you.”

“Let’s finish our drinks and...” she started and Ichabod immediately sucked down his drink without stopping.  Abbie laughed.  “Well... aren’t you eager.”  She finished off her drink and set both glasses on the table.  She was going to trust her instincts on this one.  Her instincts had never led her astray.

Abbie stood and took Ichabod’s hand.  She glanced at Sadie.  “Hey Sadie, can you kill the video to the Glitter Room?”

Sadie cocked a brow then flipped a switch to kill the feed coming to the split screen.  “Done, Baby Girl,” she said, eyeing Ichabod with amusement glimmering in her eyes.  “Keep it legal.”

Abbie fluttered her lashes.  “Don't I always? Besides, I’m on my break and can do what I want.”

“I said what I said, Pixie,” Sadie teased.

Abbie led Ichabod to a door inscribed with the words _The Glitter Room_ in elaborate, gold cursive letters.  When she glanced back, as she turned the knob, she saw Ichabod was gently sucking in deep breaths.  She pulled him into the room and shut the door, locking it.

Her breath hitched when she turned around and saw his lust blown eyes.  Abbie swept a gaze over him and, for a brief moment felt intimidated.  He was ridiculously tall and broad shouldered.  Everything about him was large--including the bulge at the front of his trousers.

Swallowing hard, Abbie watched his fingers dance against his thighs.  “Alright, Ichabod, the Glitter Room has a couple of rules...” she purred.  She stepped forward, putting her hands on his chest.  She urged him into one of the plush chairs and straddled his lap.  “Rule 1 is... I can touch you but you can't touch me without permission.”

Ichabod nodded gently.  “Understood,” he murmured.

“Rule 2 is...” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his.  “What happens in this room is strictly between us.”

“Certainly,” Ichabod replied quietly.  

“Rule 3...” Abbie said.  “It's very important you follow this one...”  God, she felt so on edge with pure want.  “You can ask me to stop at any time for any reason.  No judgements.”

He nodded gently.  “As long as you promise the same.”

Abbie smiled slowly and nodded as she stood.  “I can do that.”

It was the first time anyone had told her _she_ could stop for any reason.  That only fueled the yearning she was feeling in the pit of her belly.  Oh she wasn't gonna stop.  No way in Hell.  Unless he told her to.  

She had been noticing him for a while in the crowd, the way he focused on her.  To be honest she had felt a little intimidated by the intensity of his gaze which was why she hadn't spoke to him until that day a few weeks ago.  She didn't want to be one of those 'rescue’ stories that was so prevalent with people in her career path.

It had taken talking to him to realize... He didn't think she needed rescued.  He had asked her the expected questions.   _Did she enjoy her work?_ Yes.  Sure she had days she wasn't feeling it but that was the case for most jobs. _Did she feel safe?_ Also, yes. Mabie, Sadie, Steve, and the other girls all watch out for each other. They were like family.   _Did she ever feel she was destined for something greater?_ Didn't everyone?  

Abbie liked how he cradled her hands in his when they talked, the way he was so... _gentle._ The way he centered in on her, not her legs or her breasts.  He swept his gaze over her face when she talked, as if committing the movement of her lips and the look in her eyes to his memory as she spoke.

It made her feel so-her heart fluttered in her chest.  No, she wasn't going to say loved.  If she said loved, she would fall _in love._  And it was all a little too new for that.

_Adored._

Yes. That was the right word.  Adored.  It made her feel... treasured.  She wanted to make him feel the same.  Something told her he was a man that rarely felt adored.  There was too much hurt and vulnerability in his eyes.  

The music thrumming in from the club changed.  A slow, sexy tune took its place.  It was one of her favorites to dance to.  She wondered if maybe the DJ had seen her heading to the room and wanted to give her a good song to dance to.

_I can't get you off mind / Thinking of you all the time_

Her breath hitched as Ichabod straightened in his seat, his pupils dilating as she swayed her hips to the backbeat.

_Just like a drug but better, baby I'm stuck on that /  
Can't get enough of our magic_

She stepped between his knees, her hands slowly roaming down her body.  Abbie watched his breath stutter as her hands roamed back upward and behind her neck.  For a moment his hands raised, fingers twitching longingly.  But he lowered them and gripped the seat of the chair.

_Think I fell in love with that ounce / Hopin' that you call, going through withdrawal / When you stop dealing with me girl, it's like the sky falls / Ain't no use in going to rehab as I keep going back to what she had_

Abbie pulled the ribbon behind her neck and let the top of her dress slide to her waist.  Ichabod made a soft, strangled sound and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.  His eyes followed her fingers as they fluttered over her exposed breasts and stomach.  When his fiery gaze met hers, she licked her lips and slowly rotated to facing away from him.  

Her hands slid down her sides and she urged the little dress over her hips and let it fall to the floor.  Abbie daintily stepped out of the pool of material then nudged it away with the toe of her shoe.

Abbie eased herself onto Ichabod’s lap-grinning when she heard him gasp oh good heavens.  She felt fingers brush her waist then pull away quickly as she slowly grinded against the hard lump at his groin.

_Just one more hit baby / Gives me that feeling one more time_

_I'm a addict, I'm a addict / Every piece of your body I gotta have it_

Abbie shuddered and moaned softly as she started to rock against Ichabod.  She could feel his hot breath just behind her ear as he softly whispered her name.  This was quickly becoming less of a private dance and more like foreplay.

_I'm strung out, so far gone / Running in my veins, I can't leave you alone / I'm a addict, I'm a addict_

She stood and turned to face him.  His eyes roamed over her body, lingering at the twinkling rhinestones covering the tiny triangle over her apex.  He licked his lips then looked up her with heat in his eyes.

Abbie hooked her thumbs under the thin straps at her sides and slowly pulled her thong off.  She leaned over his lap as she worked the thong down her legs.  He had a white knuckle grip on the chair.

_Every piece of your body I gotta have it / I'm strung out, so far gone / I know I gotta have you no matter what it costs_

For a moment she wondered if she should put them both out of their mutual miseries.  The front of his trousers were tautly tented and his eyes were on the little downy strip of hair between her legs like he wanted to devour it and everything in the vicinity.

Instead, Abbie straddled his lap and clasped her fingers behind his neck as she grinded against the evidence of his desire.  She leaned close and nuzzled his cheek.  His beard was surprisingly soft and held a faint woodsy scent that affected her like a  drug all its own.

“Ichabod,” she whispered. “Touch me...”

Apparently Ichabod's idea of touch was to engulf her in his embrace and take possession of her mouth with his.  His kiss held an intensity that rendered her nearly breathless.

The music seemed to fade into the background as his hands spanned her back with ridiculous ease, one drifted down to her ass and cradled one cheek in his massive palm.  

He hauled her up against him, Abbie moaned softly.  She rocked her hips again.  He shivered and sighed her name.  Ichabod pulled back for a moment to study her face.

“Not here,” he murmured, resting his forehead to hers.  “I wish to make love to you as you deserve... to make certain that every inch of your body has been sufficiently worshipped.”

Abbie nodded mutely. She took his face in her hands and peppered it with kisses.  “I like the sound of that.” But she didn't want to have to wait until the end of the damn night.  “I'm suddenly feeling a little under the weather.”

Concern flittered over Ichabod's face.  She put a finger over his lips as he tried to form words.  

“I'm going to get my clothes back on,” she said softly.  “I just need to let Sadie know I need to go home.  You can go wait at my car... then you can come home with me.  Make sure I get proper attention.”

“Oh,” he said softly.  A wicked little smirk twisted his lips.  “What a delightful ruse.”

Abbie pressed a quick kiss to his lips.  “And while I do that, you can tend to whomever has been texting you like crazy.”

He scowled at his phone after she stood up and started pulling her thong back on.  “It's my work partner,” he grumbled.  “It's nothing of importance. They can wait until morning.” His eyes swept over her appreciatively.  “Besides, there are far greater uses for my energy yet to come than worrying over _work._ ”

Something told Abbie that greater use somehow involved his teeth and her thong.  Now... to get sent home sick...

~*~

Jenny reloaded and brought her piece into position before rapidly squeezing the trigger. The recoil was a pleasant burn in her muscles as the bullets sailed through the air to hit the target exactly where she wanted each time. Seven quick pulls caused an equal amount of holes in the center mass of the target paper twenty-five yards away. 

A slow clap turned her around and Jenny smiled tightly at her only company. “Captain,” she said cordially, emptying her gun and picking up another mag. “What brings you down here?”

“You’re not the only one who likes to squeeze off a couple after a long day,” Irving said as he stepped up to the booth next to her. 

Jenny watched him load a mag and adjust his safety goggles. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she warned.

Irving spared her barely a glance before he resumed his position and smirked. “Good, because I don’t want to hear it.” He pushed the pedal for the target paper, moving it further away.

“Good,” she retorted, and it sounded stupid and childish to her own ears. 

They popped off rounds in turn then after the fifth their shots synced in an almost natural pattern. Their guns clicked out empty at the same time.

Frank slowly removed his goggles and ear plugs as Jenny snatched both of hers off and threw them on the counter in front of her.  He closed his eyes and waited for Jenny's rant about whatever dumb thing Crane had done.

“What do I tell her, Frank?” Jenny lamented.  “I have got to tell Abbie.  And I... I have no idea how to tell her and not have her ghost on me again.”

Frank felt his heart drop.  It was Abbie she was upset about? When he looked at Jenny he could see her heart was very much on her sleeves.  If he had learned anything in the past few months, it was that Jenny was always trying hard to connect with Abbie.

He also knew anytime she wanted to convince her sister that everything from their childhood was real. She choked because Abbie would always distance herself afterward. “Well, what are your alternatives?” he asked.

Jenny sighed heavily. “I could keep her in the dark. Keep it so I can go say hi every once in a while and that she’ll pick up the phone if I call. Ichabod and I can keep scrambling to do what we do. I mean, it’s not ideal but we’ve done it so far and we’re both still alive. So far,” she added.

“So stay doing what you’re doing or try again to do what needs to be done,” Frank intoned.

Jenny groaned. “I can tell what you’re going to tell me to do,” she said.

Frank nodded. “You were always smart, Mills,” he said. “You do good work and you put your life on the line for the city and the whole world on a daily basis. I think you would be doing something close to the same thing if the chips had fallen a different way. _You_ are needed in this fight, too,” he said gently.

“That isn’t what this is about,” Jenny said, her voice high and tight.

“I know.”

Jenny stared at the hole-riddled target in the distance and felt her chest get tight. Yeah, it hurt every time Ichabod would mention something they needed doing required _both witnesses_ , and no matter how many books she read and how well she could repeat an incantation... there was only so much she’d be able to do. 

It wasn’t fair.

“I know,” Frank said, and she started - she hadn’t realized she said it out loud.

“I sound like a fucking brat,” Jenny said. 

“You sound human,” he countered. “This is a strange, shitty situation and you’re doing your best to get through it with half the tools you need and an instruction manual in Swedish.”

Jenny laughed. “You’re never letting that Ikea disaster go, are you?”

Frank shuddered. “Don’t say its name,” he grumbled. “I almost divorced Cynthia over that shit and I’m not playing.”

Jenny laughed again, and the feeling in her chest abated a little. “I’m going to tell her,” she said firmly.

“Who, Cynthia? Hell, she already knows,” he said.

“God, not everything’s about you, Captain,” Jenny deadpanned.

“Just checking,” Irving said smoothly. “When?”

“Soon. Next time I have a day off so I can tell her everything; answer her questions and hopefully still have a sister by the time it’s all said and done.” Jenny shrugged a shoulder as she smiled bitterly.

Frank smiled. “Feels good to have made a decision, even though you don’t know how it’ll turn out, doesn’t it?” he asked.

Jenny scoffed and reloaded her weapon. “Shut up,” she said. “ _Sir_ ,” she added snidely, putting on her goggles and earmuffs. After Frank donned his again they changed out their targets and continued in companionable silence.

~*~

“Hey Sadie,” Abbie said, using her most pitiful voice.  “I was just doing a private show during my break and suddenly I just didn't feel good.  I think I need to go home early.”

Sadie cocked a brow and smirked.  “Let's have Monica take a look at you,” she replied with a bemused twinkle in her eyes.  Monica was almost done with school for becoming a nurse, so she often helped out to determine if someone that had gotten sick needed to go to the emergency room or if they could maybe safely sleep off what ailed them. “Hey! Monica!”

“Yo,” the girl in question responded, still playing with her phone.

“We need your nursing school expertise,” Sadie said.  

Monica instantly perked up and shoved her phone into her top, under her boob.  She bound over with a bright smile.  “So what's up?”

“Pixie here says she was giving a private show and suddenly started to feel under the weather,” Sadie explained.  “She was with the Gent. In the Glitter Room. During her break.”

Monica nodded solemnly and tilted Abbie's chin up and turned her head left then right.  “You just started feeling under the weather suddenly?” Abbie nodded.  “What kind of symptoms are you having?”

Abbie tried to maintain her composure.  “A feeling kind of like butterflies in my stomach... started to feel hot and flushed.”

“Hmm,” Monica hummed.  “Are you by chance feeling a slight ache in the pit of your belly and some dampness between your legs?”

“Oh God, yes,” Abbie said with a sigh of relief.  “Is it serious?”

“I've seen this before in my clinicals,” Monica stated.  She looked at Sadie.  “I think she's come down with Needadickinitis.  She needs to go home and get in bed as soon as possible. And there's only one known cure for it, Pixie...” Monica put her hands on Abbie's shoulders.  “You need to find a big dick to ride.  I mean, big enough you feel the need to say a few Hail Mary’s before sitting on it.”

Sadie shrugged.  “You heard her Pixie, she's the nurse.  Home. Bed.  Big dick.”

Abbie feigned a sniffle.  “I'll see what I have to work with at home.”

“I mean it Pixie,” Monica continued. “I'm only like a few hours from being a nurse, so I know these things.  It needs to be big and hard.  And you need to just impale yourself on it.  As hard as you can.  Over and over until your toes are curling and you can't take any more of it.” Monica gave her a smooch on the cheek.  “Have fun! I mean... I hope you get to feeling better.”

“Thanks babe, love ya,” Abbie said.  When she pulled back, Monica had stars in her eyes.  

“I love you too, Pixie,” Monica whispered, her fingers touching the lipstick mark on her cheek. “Just know that, if you're down for a threesome with the sexy weirdo.  I am so on board.”

“I don't think he's into that but, I'll ask,” Abbie said, poking Monica's nose.

Abbie turned to go, unaware of two things: the look of longing on Monica's face as she walked away and the sympathetic way Sadie put her hand over Monica's when her bottom lip wibbled softly.

Once outside, she spotted Ichabod waiting patiently at the driver's side door of her car.  He promptly opened the door and offered her a hand.  Abbie caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she took his hand and he assisted her into the seat.

_Condoms_ , she reminded herself as he closed the door and trotted around to the passenger side.  There was a place a little out of the way on the ride home.  She normally stopped there to load up on cheese flavored snacks and to grab a couple doubleshots for the morning.  Abbie supposed she could still get that stuff too.

Her eyes drifted to the front of Ichabod's trousers as he eased into the car.  She had been fooled by dick prints before.  But how did one go about asking a fella if he needed just regular size or Magnums without insulting him?  Luckily she had devised a very clever technique over the years.

Abbie shifted in her seat to face him.  Ichabod looked at her shyly, his hands fidgeting as he tried to hide the evidence of his state.   _God, this man was fucking adorable._  She leaned in and turned his face towards hers so she could press her lips to his again.

His hands instantly came up to cup her face.  He moaned softly, which sent a jolt straight to between her legs.  Abbie's hand drifted down his chest as he deepened the kiss, tasting her fully.

Her fingers trailed down his stomach and over the buttons of his trousers. Finally her hand discovered the solid length of flesh trapped between fabric and his thigh.  Her breath stuttered.

“Oh Jesus,” she murmured, pulling back enough to look down.  Ichabod blinked, dazed and confused as she flattened her palm and stroked the length of him.  Not only was her boy a decent length, he was thick too.  “Ho, boy.”

She silently prayed he was a believer of foreplay.  Cause if he wasn't, she'd probably be ruined in every way imaginable.  And not in a good way.

“Is something amiss?” Ichabod asked, suddenly very aware of the concern on Abbie's face.

Abbie shook her head and offered him a smile.  “Everything is good, Baby,” she said softly, settling back into her seat.  “I just want to get out of here.”

She sank back into her seat and cranked her car.  “I have to make a quick stop somewhere before we go to my place.”

Ichabod bowed his head gently and smiled.  “You are the captain of this vessel,” he said with an elegant sweep of his hand.  “The roads are your seas, so chart the course as you see fit, my dearest Abigail.”

God, why did that make her horny? _Oh wait, she was already that way._

Abbie spared zero minutes getting to the adult store a few blocks down. She couldn't get her snacks but they had more variety of condoms for covering that monster in Ichabod's pants. 

She almost laughed at the horrified look on Ichabod's face as he looked at the lingerie and leather clad mannequins in the window.  Part of her wondered what he would do if she surprised him with the strappy leather get up that covered nothing but framed everything.

She dashed in and a few minutes later came out with her purchases.  Abbie handed the bag over to him.  “Will these work?”

Ichabod peered into the bag with the curiosity of a child.  His brow arched as he reached in and pulled out one of the boxes.  For a moment, his face turned blank, as though he had no idea what he was looking at.  
“Yes! Yes,” he said.  “These are quite sufficient,” he said as he turned the box over in his almost comically large hands and began reading the words on the back. By the time he became aware that the car had stopped Ichabod hoped he’d gleaned enough on how to use these new-fangled condoms, because they sure didn’t seem anything like the ones he’d used in his time. 

“You look as if that box holds the secrets of the universe,” Abbie teased as she watched him come out of his stupor of concentration.

Ichabod flushed, grateful for the dim light in the cab of the car. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I often read the instructions to ensure I have a firm grasp of an object’s use.”

Abbie doesn’t puzzle long over the strangeness of the comment, and instead leans forward so she can kiss away the uncertainty in Ichabod’s expression. “Hey,” she said quietly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she said. 

She never thought she would have to say that to a customer, but Ichabod was more than just a _customer_ , if she was being honest.  There was something deeper and stronger at play between them, that much she knew.  She wasn't going to go as far as to say it was love but it was definitely on up there.

Besides, bad things had a tendency to happen to the people she dared to care about.  Or they abandoned her.

Ichabod stroked her cheek then tucked her hair behind her ear.  Her heart stammered at the tenderness on his face.  “I can think of nothing I want more in this moment than to finish what we started at the club.”

Abbie grinned as she moved from her seat and climbed into Ichabod's lap.  “Same,” she murmured then kissed him softly.  She had been wet since grinding on him in the Glitter Room.  And the drive to her place had done nothing but make it worse.

She moaned softly when his hands grasped a handful of her ass a piece and pulled her up against him.  Their kiss became frantic, hungry.  Abbie curled her fingers around the lapels of his coat then his shirt as she rocked against him.

When she pulled back, Ichabod tried to follow her lips.  She smiled wickedly and put a finger to his chin to gently push him back against the seat.  He looked damn good slightly dazed and focused on her.

Her fingers trailed down his chest and over his stomach.  Abbie caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.  “It's like opening a present,” she said softly.

Ichabod's heated gaze swept over her.  “Indeed it shall be.” His hand came up and pulled at the strings behind her neck.  Abbie gave a soft, mock gasp as her top slithered down her body and fell in a heap between them.  Ichabod licked his lips.  “Good Lord,” he breathed.

Abbie leaned forward to kiss him again, pulling the shimmering material up and over her head. “God I can't wait to get you inside me,” she murmured.  Finally, she managed to get the maze of buttons undone and reached inside to grasp his cock. _Damn. She really couldn't wait._

She reached between the seat and the door to pull on the lever that sent the seat back.  Ichabod looked pleasantly surprised for a moment then smirked.  “How ingenious,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along the curve of her shoulders and down her arms.

Abbie couldn't help but grin.  He acted like the idea of a car having reclining seats was a new discovery.  

She looked around and located the box of condoms.  Moments like this made her glad she lived in one of the darker corners of her apartment complex.  The darkness was capable of hiding so many things; this was one of the fun things it could hide from prying eyes.

Ichabod watched her as she plucked one of the condoms from the box and delicately ripped open the packet.  Abbie sucked in a breath as she used one hand to free pull his cock from his trousers.   _Boxers_ , she mused. That was a surprise. Silky ones at that.

He was gorgeously hard and she had to squeeze to get her fingers to get remotely close to touching as they wrapped around him.  She would definitely be feeling it in the morning.  Then again she was ready to be feeling it right that moment.

He wasn't the _biggest_ she'd had but he was damn close.  Excitement shivered through Abbie's body when Ichabod softly moaned her name, his eyes fluttering closed.  A small clench between her thighs demanded satisfaction of its own.

She carefully rolled on the condom and gave his cock one last gentle squeeze.  Licking her lips, Abbie began the journey of sinking herself down on him.  Little by little, shifting her hips, spreading her thighs further apart, grabbing hold of Ichabod's hands when he grasped her hips and attempted to thrust up into her before she was ready for more.

“I know, Baby,” she whispered.  “I know you want to give it all to me but.. just... let me... Oh fuck...” He thrust upward again, her eyes rolled back and she choked on her breath.   _God, it felt so good._

“Abbie,” Ichabod moaned, his eyes wide as he gasped for breath himself.  His hands had moved to gripping the seat belt and the side of the driver's seat, white knuckled and straining.

Abbie slid herself up and down his dick, the friction between them getting slicker and wetter and faster each time she pushed down.  He wasn't even half way in and she already felt like coming. _How the fuck_?

“Please, Abbie, please,” Ichabod gasped. His hands returned to her hips.  

Her fingers had just barely touched his wrists and he had sheathed himself completely inside of her.  They both paused, eyes wide, mouths open in silent moans that couldn't make it beyond their throats.

Abbie panted heavily, everything felt like it had wound tight.  Her ears rang.  She was seeing so many stars she felt like she was floating in the Milky Way. Her inner walls throbbed eagerly around the cock buried inside of her.  She slid a hand down to where they fit together so intimately, touching the few inches that still hadn't fit themselves inside of her.

Her face flushed and a laugh stumbled between her lips.  “Mmm... _fuck..._ ” she hissed.  “Shit... fuck...” Her fingers sought out her clit, but she discovered there was already others there, rubbing gentle circles around it.

So she did the only thing a girl in her situation could do... she started moving up and down once more, a surprised “oh” bursting between her lips each time she felt the tip of his cock bottom her out.

Suddenly Ichabod sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.  He buried his face in the curve of her neck and shuddered as he came.

Abbie blinked and stroked his hair as he woefully murmured, “I apologise...” he lifted his head to look in her eyes.  “I promise I do not ordinar--”

“Don't worry,” she whispered, taking his face in her hands.  “We got all night long, Ichabod.”

“It's been... a long while since I've--”

Abbie tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, rendering him silent.  “It happens,” she murmured, placing small kisses on his face and lips. “Let's get in the apartment and we can take things as slowly as you need to.”

He looked away bashfully, eyes closed with embarrassment.  Abbie wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his.  “It's okay, Ichabod.  I promise.” She hummed appreciatively when she felt his cock twitch inside of her.  That was a good sign that he might be ready to go again soon.  “Let’s go before this beast wakes back up.”

They shared small, brief kisses that quickly ventured into a long, lingering kiss.  That in turn led to Abbie rocking on Ichabod's lap and his hands roaming over her skin reverently.  Abbie tore her mouth away from his and moaned his name loudly.

Ichabod didn't relent with his kisses, instead moved them to anywhere he could reach in the confines of the car.  Abbie wanted to get him into her place so she could _really_ see what he was capable of. 

Her head fell back as Ichabod licked and nipped his way down to her breasts. One of his hands came up to cup her breast as his tongue made slow circles around the dark peak before drawing it into his mouth.

“Ichabod,” Abbie whimpered. “We need to take this inside...”

He released her nipple with a wet smack of his lips.  “Of course, Treasure,” he said softly, affection glowing in his eyes.  He kissed her cheek, then her jaw, the corners of her mouth...

Before Abbie knew it, she was moaning his name as they moved together frantically.  Her legs wrapped around his waist, the car creaking gently as it rocked hard.  She felt his hands on her sides, guiding her up and down.  Abbie grabbed hold of his coat and his ponytail as he bounced her on his lap, hitting deep with each drop.  She bit her lip, tightening her legs around him, rotating her hips to grind down against him.

A small whimper managed to escape as her body jerked and pleasure jolted through her.  “Oh... _God_ ,” came out as more of a shriek than she had been prepared for.  It felt like she had lost all control of her body, her hips thrusting hard against Ichabod as she rode out her orgasm, the rest of her trembling, tears burning her eyes.

It was only a matter of moments before she heard Ichabod grunt softly, pulling her flush to him, kissing her between small groans as he found release for a second time.  After, they sat there, panting.  Ichabod’s hands glided over her body slowly, learning every curve and contour, he placed feathery kisses on her shoulder and her neck, nibbled her ear, then nuzzled her hair, breathed her in.

“Hmm,” Abbie moaned once she regained her breath.  She chuckled softly and stroked his hair she turned her face enough to kiss his jaw.  “Maybe now we can finally make it into the apartment.”

“Perhaps,” Ichabod said softly, a small laugh lending mirth to his voice.  He hummed gently as he placed a kiss just below her ear.  “Forgive me?”

“For what?” Abbie asked, pulling back to look him in the face.  She couldn’t help but grin as he gazed at her with a dopey smile on his face.  He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face.  

“For not heeding your desire to get into the apartment before making love again,” he responded.  “It was simply unthinkable that you should go unsatisfied.”

“Yeah well...” Abbie reached over to retrieve her dress from the driver’s seat.  “You can make up for it once we get indoors and away from windows.”  

“And make up for it I shall do,” Ichabod said.

The look in his eyes said that she was definitely not going to be going unsatisfied again, any time soon.  Abbie pulled her dress on over her head and tied the top haphazardly behind her neck.  She reached between their bodies to hold the condom in place as she sat up enough to slip him from her. She winched softly, feeling suddenly very weak and very empty.

“I don’t know if I can walk,” she laughed.

Abbie watched as Ichabod removed the spent condom -- making a mess in the process.  She grinned and wondered how the hell a man his age acted like an inexperienced teenager with the things.  Though the thought did occur to her that maybe he didn't have much experience with them.

With a slightly flustered huff, Ichabod tucked himself away and secured the buttons of his trousers.  His face pinked and he chuckled softly.  “If you are unable to walk, I have arms which can carry you.”

Abbie barely had time to grab her keys and the rest of the condoms before he had opened the door and whisked her from the vehicle.  She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her, bridal style, to her apartment.

Once inside, he made absolutely certain she was thoroughly satisfied numerous times before they both were boneless in each other's arms and drifted to sleep in a warm embrace.

And for that moment, snuggled to the warmth of Ichabod's chest, her feet tucked between his legs, Abbie fathomed the idea that maybe love and happiness was something within her reach.


	3. Chapter 3

Abbie grunted as she awoke to the sound of buzzing plastic rattling against wood. She squinted at the phone on her nightstand then picked it up.

_Incoming call… Sgt Jennifer Mills_

Shit. It was Ichabod's phone. She felt his face nuzzle the small of her back and his hand stroke her thigh. He fell still once again as his phone ceased buzzing.

Abbie was about to set the phone back down when a text came through. Followed by another, then another. When a fourth one came through she scowled and pressed the unlock button. Her brows arched when it went straight to his home screen without prompting for a password.

_Don't do it, Abbie. It's none of your business_.

Yet she found herself clicking the text message icon to look at a list of unread messages.

_**Let me guess. No service?** _

_**It wouldn't say delivered if you didn't have service jackass.** _

_**Answer your God damn phone when I call you. This is the 4th time I've tried calling since your extra dramatic ass stormed out last night.** _

_**Are you still sulking like a little bitch?** _

_**I'm at the cabin. Came to make sure you wasn't dead. You're not here.** _

_**You know what. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.** _

_**Sorry. I'm still annoyed with you.** _

_**Anyway. Call me when you “get service”.** _

Abbie drew her bottom lip between her teeth and put the phone back on her nightstand. A little too late into whatever this is between her and Ichabod, she can't help but wonder if he and Jenny are dating, just work together, or both.

Jenny hadn't mentioned a new boyfriend lately. Just complained about the overgrown man-child she had been partnered with as part of her promotion to sergeant. Abbie looked down at Ichabod and wondered if he was the guy Jenny complained about.

Finally Abbie deduced that, even though she didn't see it, they were the same men. And she would fucking fight Jenny if she had to to keep him for herself. 

Abbie kissed Ichabod's forehead then slipped out of the bed. She collected a little something to throw on then tiptoed to the bathroom to shower. Afterward, she pulled on a little black sports bra and Cookie Monster underwear then stopped as she reached for the rest of her clothes. She peered out into her bedroom at Ichabod.

Her brows arched when she could tell he was already sporting a substantial early morning salute. She then decided to forego the shorts and t-shirt because she had a feeling she wouldn't be wearing anything for very long once Ichabod woke up. 

Ignoring the ache between her legs, Abbie wrestled her hair into a quick ponytail then scampered to the kitchen to start breakfast.

~*~

Ichabod rolled over and planted his face into Abbie's pillow. He hummed lowly and nuzzled his face into the pillow, into the scent of sweat, sex, and _her_. Another part of him was already wide awake and looking for trouble.

Honestly he couldn't go anywhere near Abbie without it getting excited. The initial false start aside, it had been all too eager to keep his lover satisfied. Now that his mind was full of her scent, her heat, and her softness… 

He wrapped his arms around the pillow and wallowed in Abbie's scent. Ichabod knew he was going to have to find a means to keep from staying perpetually hard when around his lover. He’s not sure how that’ll be possible, now. Ichabod lifted his head and smiled. 

“The sacrifices one must make,” he mutters happily before sitting up in the bed and pulling on his boxers. 

His ears prick at the sound of Abbie softly singing from somewhere in her apartment. The aroma of cooking bacon trickled in through the open bedroom door.

Ichabod clamored from the bed and padded to the doorway. He caught a brief glimpse of brown skin between the counter and cabinets. That insistent part of him dragged him forward, encouraged by the idea that Abbie could possibly be naked and cooking - a “kink” that apparently transcended cultural differences between their native time periods.

“ _Sticks and stones may break my bones_ ,” Abbie sang boisterously. “ _But chains and whips excite me… Na na na na Come on…_ ”

Ichabod arched his brows with interest as she swung her hips and bounced on her toes, whilst she sang along with her phone, using a plastic cooking implement as a microphone. His eyes roamed over the puff of hair atop her head and then down her body. Her attire was not the bits of silk and sparkle he was accustomed to seeing. However, the blue cartoon creature with cookies on her backside had a charm all their own.

He licked his lips as he recalled her taste on his tongue. Whilst the smell of breakfast fare had led him to the kitchen, it was something much sweeter he craved for breaking his fast.

A sudden surprised yelp drew his attention. Abbie had turned around and been surprised by his presence. His eyes locked onto hers and he strode purposefully toward her until he was close enough to lift her weightless form onto the counter. Her dark eyes were lust-blown and she licked her lips as she looked up at him.

“I'm making waffles,” she said softly. She melted when his lips brushed hers. The plastic implement clattered to the floor as she wound her arms around his neck as she shifted closer to his warmth.

His fingers curled into the waistline of her panties and he peeled them from over her backside. Abbie lifted her ass off of the counter enough so he could pull them off and lay them in a heap next to her.

“Ichabod,” she moaned softly as he grazed the side of her neck with his teeth. “We're out of condoms. Remember?”

Ichabod nodded lightly and kissed a wet path down to Abbie's chest. 

“I assure you, madam, one is not needed for what I have in mind,” he murmured, tugging the cool spandex top up enough that he could bury his face between her breasts.

She whimpered as he sucked deeply on each nipple in turn, releasing them with a loud, wet smack of his lips when done. He eased down onto his knees, his mouth leaving a damp trail down her belly.

He remembered how she had begged him for release in the wee hours of the morning, as he feasted upon her. It had been too dark in the room for him to see her face. But he fathomed the lust-crazed expression currently on her face was very similar. With a small smirk, he kissed and sucked on Abbie’s inner thighs. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back as he nibbled his way closer to the prize.

“Oh God, not again,” Abbie whimpered.

Ichabod lifted his head. 

“Do you wish for me to st--”

Abbie grabbed his hair and pressed his face into her wet folds. He wasted no time in swiping his tongue between her lips and moaning indulgently at the taste of her. Ichabod cupped her thighs in his palms and pressed them around his face as he nuzzled her apex, smearing her juices all over his face before seeking out her clit and suckling it gently. Abbie’s small feet hit his back as she scrambled for purchase on the counter. She yanked hard on his hair as she shouted his name.

“Oh, shit,” Abbie whimpered, her body twisting and trying to get away from his questing lips and tongue. “Ichabod… Ich… ahhh… oh…” A small sound escaped her lips when he lightly pressed the tips of two fingers against her opening. 

Ichabod lifted his head and licked his lips. 

“Do you want me inside of you, my darling Abigail?”

“God, yes,” Abbie croaked.

Ichabod lowered his mouth to her again and slipped his fingers inside of her to the knuckle. His lover keened and he felt the ball of her fist hit the top of his head as she gasped for breath. He pumped his fingers, gently at first, then moved them faster as she became wetter.

“Fuck!” Abbie shrieked and Ichabod’s hand, face, and neck became saturated by her. When she went limp, Ichabod removed his fingers and kissed his way back up her body until he had her mouth under his. Abbie made a small sound and returned the kiss, stroking her tongue against his. 

Her fingernails scratched down his chest and stomach, then palmed the front of his tented boxers. She slipped off the counter, turning away long enough to unplug the waffle maker and turn off the stove. Ichabod’s heart raced as she urged him backward and then to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. She straddled his lap and hummed appreciatively as she rolled her hips. 

“I think I may have a couple of condoms hidden somewhere in the apartment.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “Unless… Are you clean? Have you been tested recently?”

Ichabod blinked at her. He searched his memory trying to figure if this was something he had been educated about in the modern era. However, not wishing to sound like a fool, he tentatively responded, “I… have not had… any kind of testing recently.”

“Damn,” Abbie whispered. She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Let me go check my hiding spots right quick.” She was off his lap quick as a fox and disappeared into the bedroom.

Ichabod tried to maintain his composure whilst he awaited her return. Roughly two minutes later, she came scurrying back with several of the small packets in her hands. 

“We got lucky this time,” she said with a grin. She settled onto his lap again. “Hmm, where were we?” Abbie shifted her hips and hummed softly. “Now I remember…”

He watched her as she rolled the condom onto his shaft. She stood, turned away from him, and carefully eased his tip between her damp folds. A soft _Oh My God_ slipped from her lips as she slid down his cock. 

“Oh, my fucking God,” she whimpered.

Her walls clenched around him and she swore softly. 

“Why…” she choked, seating herself fully on his lap. “Why are you so fucking big?” she rested her hands on his knees, tilted her hips forward, and pushed back. “Why, god, why…”

Ichabod grasped her hips and nibbled the curve of her shoulder. 

He nuzzled her ear and muttered, “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” He pulled her hips back against him and her entire body jerked. His thighs suddenly felt saturated and the smell of sex filled the air around them.

His hands fluttered up her body and then he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her in place as he hoisted himself up from the chair. She squeaked in surprise as he laid her over the table and before she could recover, he began to glide in and out of her rapidly.

She arched and howled out his name as he plunged to the hilt with each stroke. Her fists hit the table and she threw her head back as she came again. 

“Don't stop… for fuck’s sake don't stop,” she pleaded.

By time Ichabod came, Abbie felt like a limp noodle and was so enraptured she was sobbing against the table but still softly begging him to not stop. He gathered her into his arms and plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs, holding her and stroking her skin with reverence.

He murmured softly as he placed gentle kisses on her jaw. She reached up and stroked his cheek. He rested his forehead against hers and laughed softly.

“You are like no one I have ever met,” he murmured.

“Same,” Abbie said softly. She was about to speak further but a knock on her door caught her attention. She swore softly and tugged her sports bra down into place. “Let me see who it is.”

Her legs wobbled unsteadily as she pulled herself from Ichabod's lap. She retrieved her underwear from the counter and slipped them back on. When Abbie turned around, Ichabod was tugging his boxers into place.

“It's probably just Monica,” Abbie explained. She walked over to him and stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “Go ahead and get a shower. I'll join you as soon as she's gone.”

Ichabod tilted her chin up and kissed her again. For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something but a knock came again, this time louder and more forceful. Abbie swore. She knew that knock.

“Shit, that's my sister,” she sighed. She watched the color drain from Ichabod's face.

“I shall collect my belongings and slip out of a window,” he said, swallowing hard.

Abbie patted his chest then stroked her fingers along a scar there. She wondered where it had come from. 

“Just… get in the shower. She won't be here long, I promise.”

So he didn't want Jenny to know he was with her. It occurred to her that he was terrified of her sister. 

“Ichabod, are… are you seeing my sister or something and afraid she'll find out you’re here?”

“Heavens, no,” he gawked. “She is… my work partner. That is our _only_ connection, I vow to you. My fear is that she will discover our tryst and flay me for befouling her sister.”

Abbie stifled a snicker. 

“I was befouled long ago, baby. But let's just stick to the shower plan.”

_Tryst. Befoul. Vow. Damn, where did this man come from?_ Abbie grinned to herself and urged him toward the little hallway. 

“Go,” she said softly.

Ichabod made a small helpless sound and put his hand over hers. She could tell, like her, he didn't want her to stop touching him. Like something about his world would be a less bearable because she wasn't with him.

“I'll still be here,” she whispered. “I promise…”

He gathered her hand in both of his and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

“May she be gone quickly,” he murmured, affection glowing in his eyes.

Abbie urged him toward the bathroom, her face warming. Once the door closed behind him, she hurried to the front door and flung it open. 

“Jenny. What the hell? It's 8AM.”

Jenny swept a look over her and frowned. 

“You make a habit of answering the door in your underwear?”

“I do when I was about to be getting dick and you knock on my door,” Abbie quipped. As if on cue, the sound of the shower being turned on echoed down the short hallway. 

“Urgh,” Jenny groaned. “A new one? What's this one's name?”

“Why? So you can run a background check on him?” Abbie asked, a little more crossly than she had intended.

Jenny smirked and rolled her eyes. 

“So it's a he this time?” she asked, walking in and heading to the kitchen. She paused and looked at the small mess. “Did… did I interrupt kitchen sex?”

“We had just finished and were about to have shower sex,” Abbie quipped, scurrying around the kitchen to tidy up. She grabbed a paper towel to collect the used condom off the table. “Whoops. Apparently my house guest is a little messy…”

Jenny pulled a face when Abbie waggled the paper towel in her direction. 

“You're messy,” Jenny grumped. “Why won't you give that nice Asian girl next door a chance? She's really sweet and cute and thirsty as fuck for you. Your girlfriends are always quality. Your taste in men is dubious at best.”

“You mean Monica?” Abbie asked, cleaning up the counter. “For one, we work together. Second, she and I want different things. I want to one day have a peaceful life with a spouse and kids… Monica wants to be the mistress to a big name plastic surgeon, seduce his wife, murder the husband, then her and the widow live a life of ease in Cancun on their yacht.”

“Wouldn't it be easier for her to just take a lesbian plastic surgeon as her sugar mama?” Jenny asked. “A lot less homicide involved.”

“That's what I said!” Abbie replied. “But she just pointed out how unlikely it’d be for a rich bi woman or lesbian to walk into a dive looking for a girlfriend.”

Jenny shrugged. 

“Fair point.”

Abbie turned toward her sister and leaned back against the counter. 

“So what brings you by this early?”

“I was on my way to work and… well… I wanted to see you,” Jenny said quietly. “I miss my sister at times, you know.” She looked away. “Sometimes… sometimes things with work… things will happen that make me realize how much I worry about you.”

Even though she was the older one, Abbie felt like Jenny had taken it upon herself to protect her. Come to think of it, her apartment was at least five miles out of the way for going to work. Something must have happened that put Jenny in a reflective mood.

“Oh,” Abbie squeaked. “Well… do you want to meet for lunch and catch up?” 

Jenny smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

“Yeah. I think I'd like that. We can go to Mabie’s Diner.”

_Your pie is soup, little lady._

“I'd like that,” Abbie said softly, hearing old Sheriff Corbin's voice in the back of her mind from her youthful days. Had the sheriff ever told Jenny about trying to help her so long ago?

Jenny stepped toward her and hugged her tightly. 

“I love you, Abbie,” she said. “Just be careful. Please?” They both startled at the sound of plastic bottles hitting the shower floor, followed by an undignified yelp and a thud. “I'll leave you to whatever business you were about to get into in the shower.”

“Actually, some business was about to be getting into me,” Abbie joked. Jenny narrowed her eyes, Abbie held up her hands. “It's all legal, I promise. No money or goods have been exchanged. Now go so I can be further befouled.”

Abbie urged Jenny toward the door as she muttered, “Befouled. What the fuck, Abbie? Who the hell says befouled?”

“I do,” Abbie laughed, managing to shuffle Jenny out. “I'll see you at lunch.”

Jenny turned and hugged her again. She sighed heavily. 

“Just don't forget… I love you.”

“I love you too, Jenny,” Abbie said softly. She pulled back and looked up at Jenny. “Are _you_ okay?”

Jenny sucked in a breath and looked nearly to the point of tears. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Just having a few issues with my partner at work but… you know what. No. I'm not gonna get into that with you right now. Lunch! We'll talk at lunch. Go get your perfectly legal sexin’.”

“I am,” Abbie retorted.

“You better.”

“I will as soon as you get your lanky ass in that car and head to work,” Abbie laughed. She gave Jenny a wave as she clambered into the battered police Jeep and backed out.

As soon as Abbie closed the door, she scurried to the bathroom and carefully opened the door. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Ichabod on the other side of the glass door, setting bottles in the little window.

“You okay?” she asked.

Ichabod opened the door enough to peer out sheepishly. 

“An unexpected series of unfortunate events, but I am nonetheless unscathed. Nothing more than a wounded ego.”

The bathroom was relatively small but Abbie knew from experience that the shower could accommodate two people. She eased into the bathroom and closed the door. 

“Do I need to kiss it better?” she asked.

Abbie grinned when Ichabod's head perked up. Though she was fairly certain her peeling off the sports bra and underwear had a lot to do with that, too.

“When… when you say ‘kiss it better’…” Ichabod stammered as she stepped into the shower, her hand on his chest to urge him back.

Abbie slid the door shut and kissed the scar on his chest, then smiled up at him. 

“I'm going to give you a blow job,” she said, taking him in hand. “Or… well. As close to giving you one as I can. You may not realize this, but… you are one _blessed_ dude when it comes to dick.”

He swallowed hard and croaked, “Am I?”

Abbie nodded slowly and kissed his chest again. 

“I'm surprised none of the ladies have ever told you.”

Ichabod blinked slowly, his face flushing lightly. 

“I'm not one to make sport amongst the masses,” he said quietly. “And in my past experiences, my partners have been quite discreet on the matter.”

Abbie arched a brow. _Partners_ , not _women_ specifically. His _partners_ had been discreet. She wondered if he knew what he was implying or if he had chosen his words intentionally.

“Is… is that an activity you would enjoy doing?” Ichabod asked.

Abbie looked up at him, perplexed by what she was hearing. To be fair, giving a blow job wasn't her _favorite_ sex act but he had gone to town with his mouth between her legs. It was only fair, right?

“Does it matter?” she asked.

Ichabod's eyes softened and he tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Of course it matters,” he replied. “That which does not bring you enjoyment or pleasure is not something I wish to take place.” His eyes flickered to the showerhead. “May I?”

Abbie narrowed her eyes as she smirked. 

“You may…?” She was kind of curious to see where this was heading now that her idea was apparently not on the table. Not that she was disappointed.

He removed the shower head from the cradle and gently sprayed her body with the warm water, his fingers scurrying over her skin. He looked around and retrieved both her bath wash and a mostly dry wash rag from over the shower door with one hand.

“If you do not mind, may I be permitted wash your hair?” Ichabod asked.

Abbie was taken aback by the offer but had to chuckle as she contemplated the arduous task of washing her hair. Her arms hurt just thinking about it. 

“Ichabod,” she started, patting his chest. “You darling summer child…” 

She shook her head. “No. Even though I bet you would follow my instructions to the letter and be as careful as humanly possible… I'm not gonna put you through that. And I'm not gonna let you put _me_ through that, either.”

He returned the shower head to the cradle and nodded with understanding. She liked how he readily accepted the boundary. One of her previous partners had persisted and it hadn't gone well for either of them.

Ichabod lathered up the washcloth with soap and started to gently scrub down her arm, her hand cradled in one of his. Abbie blinked and shook her head to clear it as it dawned on her what was happening.

“What are you doing?” she asked, grinning ear to ear.

“I thought it would be obvious,” he purred, giving her a look that she had started to associate with needing to change her underwear. He moved to her other arm, gently and attentively scrubbing his way from her shoulder to her fingers.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Ichabod Crane?” Abbie teased as he rubbed the cloth along her collarbone and the surrounding area.

“Not explicitly,” he murmured. “But if my actions are garnering amorous feelings, I shall not deny you.”

Abbie leaned against the wall as he worked his way down her chest, over her breasts, and to her belly. 

“I love listening to you talk,” she admitted which earned her a bashful smile. “You're so… eloquent.”

She would have said more, but Ichabod's journey had led him to brush over a very sensitive spot on her side. Her breath hitched and she felt a twinge between her legs. When he pulled her close, Abbie looked up at him as he wrapped his arms around her and scrubbed her back with broad, circular strokes.

Damn, how could he do this and act like it was nothing? She pressed closer and ran her soapy fingers through his chest hair. Or maybe he didn't think nothing of it after all, she mused when she felt the telltale hardness pressed into her belly.

Abbie mentally calculated the risks in her head then calculated how many steps it would take to fetch one of the two remaining condoms in the kitchen before going to her bedroom.

“Ichabod,” she whispered.

“Yes, Treasure?” he asked.

“How many partners have you had in your lifetime?” 

“Yourself included?” When she nodded he looked contemplative for a moment. “Four. The last being my late wife.”

That was a helluva lot less than she had been guessing. Wait… late wife? He was a widower? At his age?

The questions she wanted to ask at that moment could wait, Abbie rationalized. She was also starting to rationalize that if his last partner had been his wife, he was probably clean. Though she knew, logically, all it took was once…

Dammit.

Abbie grabbed the shower nozzle and rinsed herself off then sprayed Ichabod for good measure. He was focused in on her, something that was quickly becoming one of her favorite things. After hanging the nozzle back up, she turned off the water and grabbed Ichabod's cock with both hands.

He bit his bottom lip to hold back a groan. 

“Come with me, baby,” Abbie said softly, pushing the shower door open with her hip.

She delicately stepped out, pulling Ichabod along by the solid length of flesh grasped in her hands. He looked positively dazed as he let himself be led to her bedroom. Abbie guided him to her bed and he sat on the edge, keeping his gaze on her face.

Abbie let him go and pressed a finger to his lips when he tried to kiss her. 

“Give me… 15 seconds.”

Ichabod nodded lightly then smirked. “One…” 

Her heart leapt into her throat and she dashed from the room as he intoned, “Two…”

She wasn't sure what would happen if he reached fifteen before she got back, but she was sure she'd enjoy it regardless. Abbie reached the kitchen as she heard him say “Five.”

“Six…” Where the - “Seven…” - hell were those… “Eight…” _They were_  
\- “Nine…” - _Ah!_ “Ten…”

Abbie squealed and “Eleven…” dashed back to her “Twelve…” bedroom. She gasped for breath and tackled Ichabod right as he said “Thirteen…” but it came out more like “Thir--gggbbbpphhh…”

They lay there panting for breath for a long moment before they both started chuckling. 

“What was going to happen if you reached fifteen?” Abbie asked curiously.

“I would have waited patiently for your return,” Ichabod stated, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I was counting merely to encourage a speedy return.”

Abbie snorted and nuzzled her nose against his. 

“Ass,” she teased. But _God_ , she loved it.

“My dearest Abigail,” Ichabod whispered. “You are and always shall be worth every moment I've waited and shall ever have to wait.”

That's when Abbie knew. She was absolutely in love with this man she barely knew. And she was going to do anything and everything she could to make sure she showed him.

~*~

Jenny looked up as Ichabod swept into the Archives. She opened her mouth to berate him, only to see he bore donuts and coffee. He looked sleep-tousled and was wearing the same clothes he had worn the night before. There was a certain pep to his step as he brought her a coffee--black, six sugars--and a chocolate glazed cruller. 

She and Irving shared a glance as Ichabod took him his cappuccino with an extra espresso shot and a chocolate cake donut. 

“Officer Mills,” Ichabod said softly. “I must make profound apologies for my behavior last night. The things I said were uncalled for. You are doing the best you can under stressful circumstances and I was only making it worse by choosing to neglect my own duties as a Witness. I shall strive to keep yourself and Captain Irving ‘up to speed’ on any new developments.”

It was quiet in the Archives for several moments. 

“You're in a good mood,” Irving said slowly.

Ichabod drummed his fingers on the table after he took a seat. 

“I had an excellent night's sleep,” he commented.

“Not at the cabin, you didn't,” Jenny commented. “Your car was gone all night and now you turn up in the sa--” she paused as soon as everything fell into place. 

“You got laid last night.” It was a statement of fact. “Holy shit, that must have been some bomb ass pussy to have you give up your Captain Crankypants persona after one go.”

Ichabod’s face turned bright red and he sputtered. 

“I… I ha--… Officer Mills. That is incredibly rude and _personal!_ ”

Jenny howled with laughter, as did Irving. 

“Ichabod got Ichalaid…” she crowed.

“I came h--”

“That much is obvious,” Jenny teased and Ichabod pinned a flat glare in her direction.

“My question is,” Irving intoned, sipping at his drink. “Is the poor girl alright? 250 years of frustration had to have been a lot to handle.”

Ichabod began to sink lower in his chair, huddling his pastry close to his chest as he picked at it. He looked between the two officers. When they didn't add more, he sighed. 

“Fine. You are correct in your assumption, however--”

“I knew it!” Jenny howled.

“ _However_ ,” Ichabod grumbled. “The subject at hand is that I was wrong to lose my temper.”

“Apology accepted, Crane,” Jenny said. She propped her chin up on her hands. “Was she pretty?”

Ichabod made a flustered sound and Irving held up a hand. 

“Hold on, now, Jenny,” Irving stated. Ichabod looked at him with a grateful expression. “I just thought of something. You have to keep in mind our boy here was forward thinking for his day… it might not have been a she.”

At that, Ichabod hid his face in his hands and groaned. He dropped his hands and sighed. 

“Yes. _She_ was pretty.” He got a far away look in his eyes and a small smile tilted one corner of his mouth. 

“She was… shimmering perfection. Like an angel that had lost her way whilst journeying home to the heavens.”

Jenny cocked a brow. 

“Does this mean the water bill at the cabin will be going down?”

Ichabod sputtered lightly then puffed up like a flustered hen. 

“I have spoken to the utility company concerning a leak at the mainline _three times_ and they have yet to see to it! They state it is something I must see to having repaired myself. However the gentleman that was called out for repair said it would be a task to be seen to by the utility company.”

Jenny sighed heavily. 

“Damn, now I can't even give you shit about the water bill,” she teased. “I'll go by the county and talk to them about this. Since I'm technically part owner of the property they'll most likely listen to me.” She cast Irving a look then gave Crane a smile. “I suppose I should-”

“Mills…” Irving intoned.

“Go see to that and…”

“Oh, no you don-”

Before Irving could detach from his cappuccino and grab his coat, Mills was already out the door cackling. Frank stopped, swearing lightly under his breath. She was going to owe him big for this one… if it happened that is. There was the possibility that...

“Captain Irving,” Ichabod said carefully.

Frank closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for the conversation to come. He had no doubt Ichabod would be wanting a mass of guidance on how to make his new sex partner less disappointed. 

“Yes, Crane?” 

“The young woman with whom I have entered a relationship…” Ichabod started carefully. 

Frank cocked a brow. 

“How young?”

Ichabod blinked in confusion. 

“If you are implying I would seek out a partner barely out of the cradle, I am insulted,” he huffed. “She is in her early 30s I assure you…” he blushed and looked away for a moment. “This morning, prior to engaging, she made inquiry of whether I had partaken in a test about my cleanliness. I was uncertain if I had, so answered in the negative.”

Frank gave a sigh of relief for more than one reason. 

“You remember when you went to the doctor and they took all kinds of blood samples and gave you immunizations after the Roanoke incident?” Frank asked. Ichabod nodded. “The testing to which she referred was part of that. Jenny gave you the envelope that had all your lab results.”

Ichabod leapt to his feet and hurried to a desk across the room. He shuffled through a stack of papers and fished out a thick envelope. 

“I was uncertain what this paperwork was saying… so I merely set it aside.”

Frank took the envelope and removed the thick stack of paperwork. He shuffled through the pages, looking for the right ones. 

“So, tell me about this lucky girl…”

“Oh, my…” Ichabod breathed. Frank looked to see that Ichabod had his phone in his hands, his jaw slack and brows arched. He startled, shook his head to clear it. His face flushed as he set his phone down. “She is… divine. An embodiment of beauty that would render Aphrodite herself full of furious envy.”

Ichabod's phone chirped and he picked it up to see what had come through. Frank shook his head, knowing damn well Jenny had been trying to contact his ass all morning. 

“Oh, good heavens,” Ichabod gasped.

Frank shifted slightly to peer over Ichabod's shoulder. All he could see was a pert brown backside in a thong with the faint evidence of a bite mark on the thigh. _Found another one_ babe, was the little message across the bottom of the picture.

Frank snatched the phone away in disbelief. 

“Are you kidding me?” he laughed. He put a hand on Ichabod's chest to hold him back. Holy hell, the girl had a body that didn't quit. "Forward thinking man, indeed.”

Ichabod made an undignified sound and snatched back his phone. 

“That was private, thank you,” Ichabod huffed indignantly, hugging his phone to his chest.

“How the hell did you manage to get a woman with an ass like that?” Frank asked. Suddenly all of Ichabod's recent behavior was making sense. The disappearing acts and ignoring his phone, the extra attention to his appearance. “Is she a historian or librarian or something?”

Ichabod’s cheeks pinkened. 

“She… she is a… dancer. A lovely one at that.”

Frank blinked at the man next to him. 

“Please tell me she's a dancer for the ballet or something. Because quite honestly, if she's a stripper I think I would be completely-”

“ _Dancer,_ ” Ichabod corrected. “She is a _dancer_ at Sweet Cheeks Gentleman's Club.”

And there it went. Frank's entire world just flipped on end. He never in a million years would be able to picture this uptight colonial time traveller in a strip club. Not willingly, anyway. Maybe kicking and screaming, dragged in by his ponytail as he loudly objected morally to “such establishments.”

It also explained the mystery of him making fat withdrawals from the bank account Jenny kept an eye on on Friday and Saturday. Blowing hundreds of dollars at a strip club had been nowhere on the list of possibilities. Hell, they had 'drug addiction’ on the list but not this.

“Please do not make a big ordeal of this information,” Ichabod said lightly. “I would much rather my private matters remain so.”

Frank put a hand on Ichabod's shoulder. 

“Of course,” he said nodding. “Right now it's nice and quiet. And your girl is sending you naughty pictures. So what are you doing here?” Ichabod looked up at him questioningly. “If anything comes up, I promise we'll call. You can even show her your lab results.”

Ichabod tried not to perk up too obviously; he’d just pulled himself away from Abbie’s sweet embrace just two hours prior. Would it be unseemly to contact her again so soon with desire to spend time again? He hesitated. 

“What would you do, as a man of this time?” he asked.

Frank smiled. 

“With an ass like that? I wouldn’t even have come here,” he joked. 

Ichabod frowned. 

“It’s more than just her heavenly form,” he said. “There is something more, something I am unable to name but I have felt it most keenly since having laid eyes on her.”

“It’s called love,” Frank offered.

Ichabod shook his head. 

“I do believe I have felt what love feels like. This is something more.”

Frank nodded and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Ichabod inquired.

“Changing your ringtone,” he said.

“Oh?” Ichabod was endlessly intrigued by the small joys of the modern world. One of the most interesting and surprisingly useful was the ability to differentiate callers by unique tunes upon calling his cellular device. “I rather liked the Captain America theme, droll as it is.”

Frank chuckled. 

“Then you’ll like this even more.” He pushed a button and over a garish melody Ichabod could hear a man singing about being in love with a stripper.

“Captain Irving, as I’ve already said, she is a _dancer,_ ” Ichabod said with a finger raised. “And I would rather you not air my personal business in such a manner.”

Frank laughed hard as he waved the man off. 

“I was just joking,” he said. “I’m not. I’m not, see?” He showed Ichabod his phone.

Ichabod didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to be looking at, so he just nodded. 

“I know you’re a man of your word,” he said, gathering up his papers and jetting off a quick missive to Abbie.

_Dearest Abigail, would you be adverse to additional hours in my company?_

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” Frank said. 

Ichabod spared a glance from his phone, counting the seconds until a reply. 

“I haven’t had reason,” he said simply. 

“Yeah, I get it,” Frank said, and he really did. All Ichabod had was the supernatural and Jenny - sort of. At least Frank got to go home to a wife and child; a home where he could be himself surrounded by love. “So again, why are you still here?”

Ichabod opened his mouth to reply but his phone chimed instead. 

_I’d love to - but you gotta behave_

Ichabod stared wonderingly at his phone as he began to wander out of the archives. 

_Behave? What have I done?_

Ichabod smiled at the quick reply.

_You and your dick wore me out. Quit acting like you don’t know. When do you want to meet?_

_Every moment I am not within your embrace is a bleak existence._

Ichabod held his breath, waiting for a response.

_Give me an hour?_

Ichabod grinned and began making his way.

_I shall endeavour to last until I see your face again._

~*~

“Why do you have that goofy ass smile on your face?”

Abbie glances up and rolls her eyes when she sees Jenny staring down at her curiously. “No reason,” she says, yelping when Jenny snatches her phone.

“No one makes that goofy face for no reason,” she said, scrolling through the messages. “Who is The Gent?” she asked.

Abbie nimbly snatched her phone back and tucked it into her purse. 

“No one,” she says.”Maybe someone,” she relented to Jenny’s raised eyebrow. “Might be too soon to tell.”

Jenny slipped into the seat across from Abbie. Judging by the grin and the happy glow, she warranted it was not, in fact, too soon to tell. 

“Is it the mystery shower guy?” 

Abbie bit her bottom lip to hide a smile as she nodded. She made a small happy sound then sighed. 

“He's really sweet,” Abbie said, looking dazed. “Kinda weird in a good, quirky nerd way. Good job. Wants me to be happy. But anyway…” she grabbed Jenny's hands and squeezed them. “How are _you_ doing, little sis?”

_Little sis._ Abbie only called her that to soften her up for something or was in a really good mood. Although, judging by Abbie's behavior, the good mood was the most likely culprit. 

Damn, Jenny thought, maybe she needed to get laid, too. It seemed to be doing wonders for everyone around her. She shook away the mental image from a dream she had about Captain Crankypants and turned her hands over to squeeze Abbie's.

“Things are good. Real good,” Jenny replied, nodding for extra emphasis. “Chasing down bad guys, sealing them away…” Abbie gave her a questioning look. “Police joke… haha.”

Abbie chuckled uncomfortably.

Jenny felt the tension and mentally kicked herself. 

“I’m fine, really,” she said.

“Anyone on the relationship front?” Abbie asked hopefully.

Jenny rolled her eyes. 

“God, you sound like Corbin,” she said, suddenly seeing her mentor in the booth across from her instead of her sister. “My job takes up all my time,” she said, blinking until she can see Abbie again. 

“You are not on duty twenty-four hours a day, are you?” Abbie asked.

“No…”

“Then your job isn’t taking up all your time.”

Jenny’s smile feels tight. Yeah, if it was just her job she would have more time to do everything she wanted - travel… maybe even see someone. Instead she’s doing what Abbie should be doing. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Jenny said. “But we’re... short staffed right now.”

“That sucks,” Abbie said absently, picking up the menu. 

“You should--”

Abbie looked up. “I should what?”

Jenny stared down at her own menu like it held the right words to say next. 

“Maybe you should sign up?”

“Is that a question?” 

Jenny pinched the side of her thigh as she shook her head. 

“No,” she said. “I mean, yeah. Maybe. Don’t you ever wonder if you’re meant for more?”

Abbie blinked. 

“More?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders. “My bills are paid and I have two credit cards I don’t even have to use. I bought my car new in three cash payments,” she said. “In _one_ month. I date every once in a while and I own my own home. What more is there?”

Jenny sighed heavily. This wasn’t going in the direction she’d meant. 

“I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I just -”

“Let me stop you,” Abbie said, raising one hand in an eerie imitation of Ichabod that made Jenny actually close her mouth. “Would you say what you’re going to say next if I wasn’t a stripper?” 

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek - she knew this road, and this road ended in Abbie staying away for another couple of months, maybe even a year even if they did see each other occasionally in this small town. 

“You’re right,” she heard herself say. “I have no right to tell you what to do with your life. As long as you’re happy. You… _are_ happy, right?”

Abbie looked at her suspiciously. 

“I don’t remember you backing down this quickly before.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Jenny said. 

“And you’re telling me I’m right. Okay, who are you, and where did you stash my sister?” Abbie joked.

Jenny struggled to find a smile, thankful the mood shifted without tears, screaming, or a fist fight. 

“New Year’s resolution,” she said weakly. “I’m trying to be a better person. A better sister.”

Abbie’s expression changed and she looked back down at her menu quickly. 

“You’re a fine sister,” she said, her voice a little strange. “Maybe we’re both doing the best we can.”

Jenny sat back and nodded, staring into middle distance. That seemed to be her life’s motto - doing the best she could. 

“What happens when it’s not good enough?” she muttered.

Abbie laughed. 

“Then fuck it,” she said cheerfully.

Jenny burst out laughing as Mariah came around to their table, filling their cups with piping hot, black coffee. 

“You girls hungry today?” she chirped as she readied her notepad.

“Starving, actually,” Abbie grinned, and Jenny was surprised to find her own stomach responding as well. “My breakfast went kind of awry this morning.”

She looked at her sister and caught her gaze and for a moment Jenny felt eight years old, looking up at the shining face of her big sister. 

“Yeah,” she echoed. “Starving.”


	4. Chapter 4

“There's my beautiful Tricksey Pixie,” Monica beamed as Abbie climbed out of her car. She threw her arms out in invitation and Abbie bounded happily into the embrace.

Monica then laid a fat, sloppy kiss on Abbie's mouth. Abbie hummed and laughed and returned it for a moment before pulling away. 

“I missed you too, Monnie,” Abbie said, slipping her key into the lock.

“With all that moaning and groaning, I thought maybe you died from getting too much dick,” Monica commented with a cheery grin. “You didn't answer my phone calls after he left.”

“Because I had to go finish the final stuff on _the house_ ,” Abbie said, pushing the door open. “And then I had lunch with Jenny.”

“Oooh, so what's sexy bitch number two up to,” Monica cooed. She pranced happily into the apartment, stopping when she saw the state of the kitchen. “The fuck happened in here?” she pointed to a streak of waffle batter that had dried as it dribbled down the cabinets. “Please tell me that's not what I think it is.”

“It's from the waffles,” Abbie stated.

“Is waffles the codename for the Gent’s dick?” Monica teased.

“No, it's not,” Abbie retorted. She grabbed Monica's wrist and pulled her out of the kitchen and to the bathroom. “But there is some tidying you can help me get done before Ichabod gets here.”

“Still not over needadickinitis, I see,” Monica commented, clicking her tongue. “Guess that means I need to go grab the strap on and--”

“Oh, trust me, I got plenty and there was a lot of it,” Abbie chuckled. “It was just… damn. It was damn good. I was like… I can't even explain it.”

Monica wrinkled her nose. 

“ _Ichabod._ I still can't get over that being the actual name his actual parents gave him. Were his parents high when they named him? Who the fuck carries a child in their belly for nine months, gives birth to it, and fucking names them _Ichabod_? I mean, if they wanted to go old school they could have named him something like The Holy Ordained Truth of Yahweh. We coulda called him Thoty, for short.”

Abbie snorted and tried to cover her laugh with the back of her hand. “You're terrible.”

“But _no_ , those fucking LSD infused hippies named him _Ichabod_ and denied us all that pleasure,” Monica groused as Abbie thrust a canister of hot wax into her hands. “Yo, what's this for? Didn't we just do this a few days ago?

“Look… I wasn't prepared last night and he likes eating pussy,” Abbie said. “I just wanna make sure everything is tidy this time.”

“Did he refuse to--”

“No. He ate it like it was a competitive eating contest.”

“Good. ‘Cause I've seen your pussy, I've touched it. It's is perfect,” Monica chimed as Abbie pulled her back to the kitchen. Monica put the canister in the microwave and punched in the time. “It deserves to be eaten vigorously. Everyday. Except during your period. Unless I get turned into a vampire, which then--wow, that look on your face. I'm shutting up.”

“Monica, I think I could have Sherwood Forest going on down there, complete with Robin Hood and the Merry Men, and you would still think it's perfect,” Abbie said.

Monica pursed her lips for a moment before replying, “You're right. I would. But that's because _you're_ perfect whether you're smooth as a baby's butt or are going all out for disco night. And… I have no shame. Or chill for that matter.”

“You do realize if you wasn't such a ho, we never would have broken up,” Abbie said flatly. “If you thought I was so perfect, why did you cheat on me? _Three times_.”

Monica sighed wistfully. “Cause I'm a horny bitch that thinks sucking a rich dude’s dick and extorting him is financial planning.”

“And your defense was, you didn't think you would get caught,” Abbie added. She sighed when Monica's bottom lip poked out. “I still love you though…”

She pulled Monica into a hug. 

“I'd rather have you as a friend than than not have you at all,” Monica whispered, then kissed her cheek as the microwave beeped. She grabbed up a dish towel to get the canister out. “Alright, baby love. Assume the position, it's time to get waxed!”

~*~

Ichabod tried to seem merely inquisitive as he perused the short aisles and walls displaying various phallic devices. He couldn't help but wonder if Abbie would find enjoyment in the small butterfly shaped device that promised to tease and please his lover.

It wasn't long before he was curiously poking at the little _real feel_ sample spots, his brows arching at the silky softness of the device. Each time he sampled he couldn't help but wonder if it was something Abbie would enjoy. Would she prefer three speeds or the thrusting action rotating beads with the _hunny bunny clitoral stimulator_?

“Can I help you find something?” a gem bespeckled faced young woman asked. Her eyes swept over him and her mouth quirked upward. “Sir? For the lady at home, for yourself… for a lucky guy at home?”

Ichabod sucked in a breath and turned to face the young woman. He clasped his hands behind his back. 

“Yes, Miss… Naomi. I am here to acquire prophylactics. My lovely _lady_ partner stopped here in the early hours of the morning to get some and as we wish to possibly engage in pleasurable activities I felt it prudent to obtain more.”

“We keep condoms behind the counter,” Naomi replied, nodding toward the area she mentioned. “Is there anything out here you want to take a better look at or to turn on to see if it's what you had in mind for your lady?”

Ichabod felt his face warm. 

“I… well… I was interested in this… butterfly and how it works.”

Naomi plucked the package from the hook on the wall. 

“Best and easiest way to use it… have your lady put it on and you take the controller and drive her crazy. If she really gets there with clitoral stimulation, then you could probably give her multiple orgasms easy without even technically touching her.”

Ichabod scowled at that. 

“That will not do. I quite enjoy touching her.”

“You could still touch her, heck, you could have sex and still work it,” Naomi said. “It might even make you feel a thing or two.”

Ichabod nodded. 

“Very well. Her pleasure is of utmost importance and if it shall bring it to her, then it will be well worth the $24.99 for purchase.” 

Naomi cocked a brow. 

“So are you the Dom or the sub?” she asked curiously. “Cause I'm getting sort of mixed vibes right now… no pun intended.”

“I have no idea what that means but whichever pertains to my making certain my lover is thoroughly satisfied, that is the one I am,” Ichabod stated. He pointed to the vibrator with rotating beads. “What can you tell me of this device?”

“That you are about to be giving your lover a very kinky afternoon,” Naomi chuckled.

Ichabod held his breath for a moment. Perhaps Miss Naomi was right. What if he were venturing into a territory which his lover was not keen upon? He could not assume, just because of her line of work that she was open to or expected such frivolity from her lover.

“Miss Naomi,” Ichabod said. “What if my lover is not receptive to such items?”

“Then you need to find another lover, hon,” Naomi said with a little smirk. “But, if she stopped in here to get condoms, odds are, she'll be into at least trying, so no need to worry. And if you get something she doesn't like, you can return it and get a refund.”

That certainly helped matters. Ichabod picked up a few other items and took them to the counter, much to the bemusement of Miss Naomi. After making his selection for condoms and batteries, Ichabod returned to his car - an old BMW 507 that Seamus Duncan had given him an excellent price on because it had a few bumps and rough spots on the exterior and it had needed to have the transmission replaced. Not to mention it was a hideous shade of green that, coincidentally Ichabod had rather liked. Also, Jenny may have convinced Seamus to lower the price.

It was mere minutes before he was at Abbie's door, politely knocking. The door was snatched open and a petite Asian woman greeted him with a pout. Her eyes fell to the bags in his hands. 

“Oh! For me? You shouldn't have.”

She then took the bags and slammed the door. 

_“Abbie! Thoty brought us a shitton of dildos and vibrators to use!”_

_“God damnit Monica.”_

A few seconds later the door opened again and this time it was Abbie, smiling shyly. 

“Hey you,” she greeted softly, pulling him in for a kiss. “Don't mind Monica, she's just being jealous. She always shows her ass when I get a new boyfriend.”

“Holy shit, I was just joking,” Monica chattered, exiting the kitchen. “But he really did bring a shitton of dildos and vibrators. Fuck. I don't know how to react to this.”

Abbie pulled back and narrowed her eyes mischievously. 

“Did you really?” she asked.

Ichabod’s fingers fidgeted restlessly for a moment. 

“I was uncertain as to what you required to achieve pleasure, so when I stopped to pick up condoms, I took the liberty of purchasing a few items to see if they would be to your liking.”

His love’s smile was wide and luminescent as she straightened his lapels and trailed her hands down his chest. 

“I was able to _achieve pleasure_ pretty damn good with just you at my disposal. But if you want to try out some different things…”

“Holy shit is that your _car_ , Thoty?” Monica asked, squeezing past them.

Ichabod blinked at Abbie. 

“Why is she--”

“Thoty’s your new name. Monica does it to everyone,” Abbie chuckled as the other woman flopped onto the hood of his car and stretched out. “She's the one that gives all the girls at the club their stage names. It's just something she does if she likes you.”

“How do I look? Do I look like a trailer park hoe?” Monica asked. “‘Cause I certainly feel like one. Or am I more of a truck stop thot?” She made a few sexy poses then slid off the hood and hopped behind the wheel. “Get in, bitches. I'm the sexy female Bond we never wanted and you're my gorgeous Bond girls.”

Ichabod laughed softly and pulled the envelope from his pocket that contained all his medical results. 

“I was incorrect when I said I had no testing recently. Apparently when I was involved in an outbreak a few months ago, part of the post care was to have a full health screening.”

Abbie's brows arched with interest. 

“Oh? And what do they say?”

“I haven't a clue, to be honest. I couldn't make heads or tails of the information,” he admitted shyly. 

Opening the envelope, Abbie removed the paperwork and pursed her lips as she looked it over. 

“Hey, Monica, we need your nurse skills.”

“Why does everyone always need my nurse skills,” Monica groaned, climbing out of the car. “Why doesn't anyone ever need the skills I'm proud of? Why doesn't anyone ever need my excellent fingering skills? Or my fantastic cunnilingus skills?”

“Because, fingering and cunnilingus skills can't help us decipher test results,” Abbie retorted.

Monica sashayed over and took the papers as she moved back into the apartment. 

“They might. Have you ever tried asking?”

They followed Monica to the living room. She plopped onto the sofa and shuffled through the papers. 

“Wow. Shit. No indications that you had ever been vaccinated for anything…? Jesus.”

“That issue has since been rectified, Miss Monica,” Ichabod stated. “The place in which I grew up did not partake in vaccinating. So when I discovered their purpose, I was eager to do my part in ensuring my health and the health of those around me.”

“Aww, bless you, my son,” Monica said. “I wish more people were like you. Abbie, your boyfriend is my son now. I spent hours in labor bringing him into this world so you better treat him right.”

“I plan on it,” Abbie grinned and nipped into the kitchen to retrieve the bags Ichabod had brought in. She settled onto the sofa next to Monica and Ichabod made himself comfortable in a plush rocking chair across the coffee table from them. After a moment Abbie began to remove items from the bags. 

After setting boxes of condoms, a few bottles of lubricant, and several packages of batteries on the table, Abbie first removed a small tin and studied the label before popping the lid off. She dipped her finger in then put her finger in her mouth. With a nod, she placed the tin of strawberry flavor body dust on the table next to the other items.

“Oh… hmm… oh no…” Monica murmured. “White blood count is a little high so you might want to get that checked out next time you go to your doctor. I mean, it's probably just you recovering from a cold or something but better safe than sorry.” She flipped a page. “ _Oh_. Oh no… no no…”

Ichabod felt his heart plummet. 

“What? What is it?”

“Monica, this better not be another one of your silly things,” Abbie said.

“I'm a thousand percent serious, Abbie,” Monica said. She looked at Ichabod, her face stern and serious. “Ichabod. According to this, you have a severe case of gonoherpasyphilaids.”

He felt a rush of panic. “Is… is it--”

Abbie groaned and swatted Monica's leg. “Dammit, Monica! I thought I said this better not be another of your _things._ Don't pay attention to her, Ichabod.” 

Monica cackled with delight. 

“I'm just kidding. Oh, _God_ his face though…” she dabbed at her eyes as her laughter subsided. “You're all good, Thoty. You're a gorgeous and healthy stud, ready for breeding.” She looked toward Abbie, grinning, but it faded when she saw the flat look on Abbie's face. 

“Aaaand she's giving me the look that says ‘get out before I choke a bitch’. And I'm the only bitch around.”

She gave Abbie a quick kiss on the cheek and handed over the paperwork. “You crazy kids go have your kinky fun. I'll be next door hearing it all through the wall.”

With that, Monica bounded to her feet and pranced her way out of the apartment. Abbie laughed and shook her head. 

“She's a lot to handle but you'll get used to her sense of humor.” She patted the spot Monica had vacated. “Come on over while I see what all kind of goodies you brought me.”

Ichabod moved to the sofa to join her as she started rummaging through the bag. 

“You know, this doesn't look like just simply spending time with me,” she said softly.

“There is no rule stating that these items are for use this afternoon or evening,” Ichabod said. “I stand by my word that it is all in your hands.”

Abbie removed a package that contained a strand of large beads strung together and attached to a controller with a speed dial on it. He hadn't precisely been sure what they were or their exact use but they had seemed interesting enough. 

“Huh. These will be a no for me,” she said slowly, setting them away from the other items. 

“I wasn't precisely sure what they were,” he admitted.

“Really?” Abbie asked incredulously. 

Ichabod took Abbie's hand in his and cradled it. 

“I must admit, I came from a place which many of these things were not in popular use. There were, of course, a few things similar but nothing of the magnitude available in the adult shopping facility,” he said. “So many of the things were chosen simply because I thought you might take delight in their use.”

Abbie slipped her hand from his and picked up the package. She pointed to bubbly writing. 

“You didn't have a clue as to the use of vibrating anal beads.”

Ichabod sputtered and his face turned bright red. 

“Oh, heavens. Is that what that says? I understood the vibrating but… I… the font which...”

She laughed and kissed his chin before returning the beads to the table. Next she removed a box. Her eyes lit up. 

“Ichabod, you shouldn't have,” she chimed. “Fuzzy handcuffs! I have some real ones I stole from Jenny, but these are cute. I love them. Definitely going in the keep stack.”

Ichabod couldn’t help but preen at her pleasure. One by one, Abbie removed an item and sorted it into the appropriate pile. Most of his offerings met her approval - including the butterfly. Finally she removed the final item and her brows arched.

“Nipple clamps, huh?” she asked, then leaned close to give him a quick kiss. “Are these for use on me or you?”

Ichabod felt his face warm. 

“Whichever would give you the most pleasure, Abigail.” 

A smile spread over Abbie's lips. She wouldn't admit it to anyone else but she liked the way he said her name. With so much reverence, like it was a gentle prayer. 

“We'll have to see which of us likes them better,” she grinned and placed it in the keep pile.

Abbie turned toward him on the sofa and pulled her knees up under herself as she took his face in her hands. 

“I’m trying to figure out how you are real,” she asked softly then kissed him. “But I'm glad you are.” She fluttered her lashes. “So what did you have in mind while you were here?”

Ichabod snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Where I am from, it was customary for a couple to learn about each other by spending time together. From what I have gathered, it is now customary to partake in the _chilling_ while watching Netflix.”

Abbie snorted lightly and rested her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. 

“I'm trying to figure out if it's your accent or the way you're dressed that makes what you said so cute. Or both. Do you even know what Netflix and chill is?”

“I am afraid I do not,” Ichabod admitted meekly. He hated admitting when some modern colloquialism went over his head. But he somehow had the feeling it wouldn't be too long before Abbie asked the dreaded query…

“So where exactly are you from?” Abbie asked.

Ichabod searched her smiling face. He didn't want to lie to her, but he knew the truth would send her running. He had run into this same issue the one or two times he had debated starting a courtship. 

“I… come from… a place that did not have access to the vast and fantastic technologies that are so obviously now available,” Ichabod replied. He looked down when Abbie entwined her fingers with his. “As far as I am aware, I shall never be able to return so… I thought it would be of my best interest to _acculturate_.” He met her eyes and smiled bashfully. “Although now I am seeing, perhaps, that will not be so much a bad thing.”

Abbie shifted closer, cuddling herself under his arm. She turned her face up at him and traced her finger tip over his bottom lip. 

“Netflix and chill is when you cuddle and watch something on Netflix.”

“Ah, so I was correct in my assumption,” Ichabod said, his chest puffing proudly. 

She studied his face for a moment, a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, her eyes dancing with delight. 

“You sure were, baby.” Abbie snuggled up to him even more and grabbed her remote control. “Is there anything you have interest in watching? And you can't say whatever would make me happy.”

~*~

They were on their second movie. Ichabod hadn't been sure what movie to watch so they had perused the science fiction section after viewing _The Patriot._ It had been hilarious because Ichabod had groaned and scoffed the entire time, as the historian in him had found it “quite offensive at the liberties that were taken.”

Now they were about fifteen minutes into _Independence Day_. 

Abbie had thought it would be cute to give him an incorrect definition of Netflix and chill but… he was so warm and affectionate. Now she was kinda hoping he would at least try to make a move. She had even tried sliding her hand between his thighs. But he had stiffened - in more than one way - and sucked in a breath as he shifted to avoid her seeking fingers. So she had moved her hand back to resting on top of his thigh.

It hadn't all been him huffing over historical inaccuracies. They had actually talked about themselves. Okay, so they had talked more about her than him. She tried to avoid her teenage years as much as possible, sticking to normal teenage things like baseball games and bad boyfriends.

_God,_ why did he have to seem legitimately interested in her damn life. If she were to admit it, he was legitimately interested. He listened intently when she talked, nodding at intervals and looking concerned at others.

Abbie placed a kiss on the underside of Ichabod's chin. 

“Hey, Ichabod,” Abbie said softly. He hummed in response. “What do you say to more than a little cuddling?”

He looked down at her, brow arched as he smirked. 

“I thought you said I needed to behave. I am merely following your desire.”

“There's two types of behaving,” Abbie pointed out. “We could start behaving badly.”

She wriggled away from his side, straddled his lap, and cradled his face in her hands. “How are you real?” she whispered.

Ichabod leaned into her touch and placed a gentle kiss to her palm. “I ask myself the same of you,” he said. “But every moment spent with you makes me eternally grateful that we are.”

The apartment was soon silent except for the sound of heated breaths and kisses as the two moved against each other. Ichabod's hands cupped Abbie's ass and dragged her up against the swell in his trousers. She rocked against him, rolling her hips in just the right way to make him groan loudly and his head fall back.

Abbie grinned wickedly and nibbled at his Adam's apple before kissing her way to the loosened V of his shirt. When he shivered, Abbie yanked his shirt over his head. She was pretty sure she could get him completely naked before he even fathomed putting a hand up her top. And it wasn't like she had piled on a ton of clothes, just a pair of shorts and a crop top. She wasn't even wearing underwear in anticipation of Ichabod wanting to get naughty.

She squeaked and giggled when she felt Ichabod's hands slide into the legs of her shorts and cup her ass. It was her turn to shiver when he heatedly whispered, “ _Abigail_.”

“I love it when you say my name like that,” she murmured against his lips. It was funny how she enjoyed being a dancer, people constantly told her how beautiful and sexy she was. Yet it was her name, said in Ichabod's deep, gentle, baritone that made her feel like the sexiest bitch on the planet.

Ichabod's eyes danced mischievously. 

“Abigail,” he repeated. “My Abigail…”

Abbie moaned softly as he nibbled his way down her neck. Damn. His mouth was downright magical. 

“Want to go to the bedroom, baby?” she said breathlessly, tugging on his hair with both hands.

A shrill squeal erupted from Abbie's lips as Ichabod grabbed the boxes of condoms and swept her into his arms. This was going to be something she was going to have to get used to. At the same time she hoped she never did. She hoped she felt invigorated and excited everytime Ichabod carried her like she was a simpering romance novel heroine.

She laughed when he kicked the bedroom door closed behind them. Never in a million years did Abbie think she would ever be able to have her own sexy pirate straight out of the pages of a book. Yet here she was, being thrown onto her bed like a helpless maiden. Part of her was tempted to feign a faint and softly protest with a “Please, no, don't…” but he might stop. 

And once he began kissing his way from her fingertips and down her arm, Abbie didn't want him to stop. By time he reached her clavicle, she was panting and she was positively aching at her core. She couldn't remember a time a lover had made her _ache_ with want like this.

“Ichabod,” she whimpered, her thighs squeezing together as her hips twisted against the mattress. His palm pressed gently against her belly as his lips and teeth gazed idly at the sensitive juncture between her shoulder and neck. Abbie grasped his wrist and shoved his hand into her shorts.

Ichabod hummed appreciatively and, instead of doing what she wanted, let his fingers explore her smooth mound. He made a curious sound as he found the tidy little strip of curls that Monica had left behind. Abbie bit her bottom lip and made a small growling noise as he decided to merely play with the curls instead of what she wanted him to.

His lips had finally made the journey up her neck, to her jaw. It was then Ichabod lifted his head to gaze down at her. It was then he finally slid his fingers between her folds and rubbed gentle circles over her clit. Abbie’s body arched as she gasped a strained, “ _Yes_.”

“Beautiful,” Ichabod said softly, watching her face.

“Who, me?” Abbie asked breathlessly. She clamped her thighs around his hand as his attention became simultaneously too much and not enough. Her teeth bore into her bottom lip as she arched.

One corner of his mouth quirked. 

“Always you, my love,” he murmured, his fingers stilling against her. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

“No!” Abbie gasped. “What would give you that silly idea?”

His eyes drifted to where she had his hand trapped between her thighs then back to her eyes. Abbie felt her face warm and let her legs fall open. She hissed between her teeth then moaned softly as his fingers slid through her folds then barely pushed inside her.

“Tease,” Abbie mock-scolded then watched Ichabod lightly licked his lips. Her feet scrambled against the bed and she let out a frustrated sound. “Ichab--ahhh… yes!”

Damn. She loved his hand with those thick, long fingers.

He dragged her ankle up to his shoulder, after pulling her shorts down her thighs enough that they were out of his way, he eased his face between her thighs. He licked and kissed and nibbled his way from her knees to her center. 

Ichabod cocked his head curiously as he stroked the strip of curls that Monica had left behind. Abbie bit her bottom lip. Did he not like it? Why was he just playing with her good damn pubic hair instead of…

Suddenly his eyes lit up and he dove in, face first, with a little growl. Abbie bucked against his face as his hands clamped down on her hips. Her eyes rolled back and she fisted his hair as he sucked on her clit, pulled back to tease it with his tongue, then made an almost feral sound as he sucked on it again.

“Oh Jesus,” Abbie gasped. “Oh God… Oh shit… Oh fuck… Oh… ggggmmmppphhhhhuuunnnn….” For what seemed like an eternity, stars floated in her vision, all she could hear was a low, steady buzzing in her ears. If she wasn't mistaken, she could also see God.

_So this is an orgasm_ , she heard herself think. While yes she had had them before, they had never been quite like what she had just experienced.

After a moment, her hearing returned with the soft whisper of fabric. Her vision returned to Ichabod, on his knees between her legs, removing his clothes with his gaze focused in on her. It was funny how quickly he could go from straight laced and proper to… a tousled pirate sex-demon. He looked like all that mattered in that moment was her and her pleasure.

Abbie pushed onto her elbows and licked her lips. God, he was gorgeous. She sat up and rubbed her hands in small circles on his chest and stomach. Her fingers followed the smattering of hair that led to his trouser buttons and made quick work of them.

They would have to have a long talk about his wardrobe choices. These clothes were just too damn complicated. Buttons here, string ties there… It was just too damn much when a girl wanted to have some dick. Specifically his.

He caught her lips in a gentle kiss as they both shifted his trousers down his thighs. Once his cock bobbed free, Abbie wrapped her hands around it, revelled in the feel of its weight in her palms.

Ichabod reached over to retrieve one of the boxes and unceremoniously ripped the package wide open. He flustered when the condoms spilled out onto the bed. Abbie laughed softly.

“I got this, Baby,” she said sweetly, picking up one of the packets as she pushed him down onto the mattress. She rolled it on and licked her lips at the prospect of having _this_ inside of her again. His eyes were aglow as she raised up enough to guide him into place, his tongue flicking eagerly against his lips as he watched her slide down. “You like watching, don’t you, Baby?”

_Shit_! Why was he so big? It’d make it so much easier if he didn’t have such a right to be so damn cocky. But at the same time, she liked that it felt like he was leaving no part of her untouched. Abbie shuddered and sighed, her hands sliding up her stomach and moving to her breasts as she let herself rise and fall on his cock. 

“Good Lord, yes,” Ichabod rasped. His hands grasped her waist and he thrust up into her each time she slid down. “Abbie, oh Abbie, my Abbie…”

Damn, she hadn’t been exaggerating when she had said he was more than enough, no toys needed. He hit all the right spots inside of her, and he seemed to know exactly when to start rubbing at her clit. “Oh Jesus!” Abbie shrieked as an orgasm ripped through her far sooner than she had hoped.

Oh but he wasn’t done with her. Oh no, indeed. Before she was even halfway through the first orgasm, he rolled and pinned her down on the bed, driving into her deeper, harder, faster. Abbie clawed at his arms, her teeth gritting as she felt him building up another just as quickly. She gasped and her eyes opened wide as her breath hitched in her throat. Her thighs trembled and quaked as she reached down to grab hold of her his ass as he pounded between her legs.

She came again with a whole-hearted scream of his name. 

He drew the second one out, watching her face for several moments as she came down. Ichabod rested his forehead against hers and kissed her softly, cradling her face in his hands. “I love watching you in the throes of unabashed ecstacy,” he murmured. “If ever I have to say what my greatest joy in life has been. I would not hesitate to reply, making Grace Abigail Mills come.”

“ _God_ you’re so fucking cocky,” Abbie groused. Her fingers danced up and down his spine. “I think it’s time to knock you down a notch.”

He cocked a brow in challenge. “Oh? And how do you presume to do such a thing?”

Abbie grinned wickedly and licked her lips. “I think I just figured out a good use of those vibrating anal beads.”

~*~

Kiki and Britney held on to each others hands as they exited the moldy brick building. They had made good tips for their hours at “Dirty Dick's” Diamond Divas. Tips had been sparse the last few weeks because of the murders.

Some nights it was a patron. Most nights it was one of the girls. But their luck was about to change. They were ditching Diamond Divas and were scheduled to start at Sweet Cheeks on Monday. The Cheeky Girls seemed to be immune to whatever was preying on the Divas.

At first their boss, Richard, had thought Mabie was trying to scare him into closing down. But then there was _the thing_ that snatched him into the shadows. No one knew what it was but carried on, business as usual. 

One of the girls claimed it was some kind of monster.

But, it seemed to only ever attack when a person was alone. Any witnesses to the attack had only ever seen the victim get dragged away hollering. Either that or they went missing too.

Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be their issue much longer. Mabie would keep them safe. Mabie actually cared about her girls. Besides, Dirty Dick's was probably gonna close down if they ever figured out what happened to their boss.

It usually took about a month to find out if he was dead or if he had run off to Miami for a bender. While is normally turned out he was in Miami, they were betting this time he was actually dead. Or maybe they were hoping. He was a bit of an ass.

Both girls jumped and screamed when a thin, geeky kid stepped out of the shadows. He held up his hands and laughed. “Did mean to scare you, sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Garry,” Britney groaned. “You scared the fuck out of us. Don't do that shit, man!”

“I just wanted to make sure you made it to your cars okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

The girls shared a glance and nodded. Garry had been a regular for almost a year. If he was some kind of monster, they'd know it. He was just a barely legal kid that came in because he wanted some feminine attention once in a while. Sweet. Shy. Always followed the no touch rules and said thank you as he gave his lap dancer a big tip.

“Okay,” Kiki said with a little smile. Truth be told, she had a soft spot for the kid. He reminded her of her little brother. Well… except Garry was a Napoleon Dynamite looking thing. 

Garry walked over and took Kiki's other arm.

“Wait for me!” 

They turned as the new girl came stumbling out, trying to put on a small tennis shoe. She smiled nervously. “Safety in numbers, right?” 

Britney rolled her eyes. “I guess,” she said dismissively.

Everyone hated the new girl. She was pretty, had big titties, and all the patrons seemed to be spellbound by her when she took center stage. More than one of the girls had been displaced by her because the crowd wanted to see her dance again.

“My car is first,” Britney said blandly, pointing it out. It was next to a street lamp that was glowing a dull orange instead of the proper yellow it was supposed to be.

They waited for her to get into her car and lock the doors before moving on to the new girl's car. It was then Kiki got nervous. It was just her and Garry now. What if he was the monster after all? What if the geeky exterior was just a ploy to make her feel at ease?

Kiki started to reach into her top for the blade she had been keeping there. A shrill scream echoed through the air. Both her and Garry turned in time to see Britney change into a creature and leap onto the new girl.

“Oh fuck!”

“My car is right there!” Garry shouted, pushing a button on his keys. 

They both leapt in through the driver's door, Garry fumbled with his keys as the creature turned toward them. “I swear to God, Garry, if you get us out of this I will go to where you live and fuck your brains out,” Kiki said frantically.

Garry looked at her with wide eyes and shoved the key into the ignition. The car fired to life and he floored it. However, just before they made it out of the parking lot, the creature landed in their path. Thankfully, Garry punched the gas even harder and sent the creature sailing with a loud, sickening crunch.

But then the dumbass stopped the car. “Is it dead?” he asked, looking in the rear view. “I should--”

“What the hell is wrong with white folks!” Kiki shrieked. “Getting out and seeing if it's dead is how you get killed! Have you never watched a solitary fucking scary movie! Just _go_. If it's dead just let it be! If it's not, let it get the next dumb mother fucker!”

Garry nodded and put the car back into drive, hauling ass out of there. Neither of them looked back to see if the creature was chasing after them. And many years later, when she told her grandkids about how her and granddad started dating--because by then the monsters and the Apocalypse everyone had endured was common knowledge--she would only ever say that was the moment she knew she would love him forever.

Because they never saw that the creature recovered, snapped its bones back into place, and turned back into her friend Britney.


End file.
